Christmas Over Azkaban
by Angie Astravic
Summary: Percy Weasley has been arrested for murder and sent to Azkaban. Fred and George have a plan to get him out. But they need Harry's help ...
1. Holiday Plans

  
  


**— chapter one —**

**HOLIDAY PLANS**

  
One morning in late October as Harry, Ron and Hermione were leaving the Great Hall after breakfast, they were intercepted by Professor McGonagall. 

'Weasley, come with me,' she said. 'The Headmaster needs to speak with you.' 

'What about?' said Ron with a trace of apprehension. 

'You'll find out when you see him,' said Professor McGonagall, but not sharply as she normally would have done. 'Now come along.' 

Ron followed her up the marble staircase and out of sight. Harry and Hermione stared after him curiously. 

'What d'you think Dumbledore wants with Ron?' said Harry. 'You don't reckon he's in any trouble, do you?' 

He couldn't imagine what Ron might have been getting up to that would earn him a visit to the Headmaster's office, or why he would have kept it secret from Harry and Hermione. 

'No, I don't think so,' said Hermione slowly. 'If Ron had done something wrong Professor McGonagall would have been angry, and she wasn't. She -- it was almost as though she was being kind.' 

Ron didn't show up for any of their morning classes. This left Dean Thomas without a partner in Charms, when the students were called to the front in pairs to cast Strengthening Spells on each other and attempt lifting Professor Flitwick's desk above their heads. 

When it came Dean's turn, Professor Flitwick said, 'Why don't you try your spell on Mr Longbottom's toad?' 

Dean waved his wand, then prodded Trevor with it to make him hop. Trevor sailed majestically across the room, nearly grazing the ceiling at the top of an approximately thirty-foot leap. 

'Oh, very good!' cried Professor Flitwick. 

'Still, I would've liked to have had a go at that desk,' said Dean regretfully as they trooped out the classroom. 

'Me too,' sighed Seamus Finnegan. His partner had been Neville, whose feeble Strengthening Spell had done little more than make Seamus slightly dizzy. 

'Where's Ron?' Dean asked Harry. 

'Professor McGonagall took him off to Dumbledore's office after breakfast,' said Harry. 'She wouldn't say what it was about.' 

'That's funny,' said Lavender Brown. 'She came to the table and got Ginny as well, after you three had gone.' 

'I don't remember seeing Fred and George at breakfast, either,' frowned Parvati Patil. 'I do hope there's nothing wrong at home.' 

An uncomfortable silence fell. If something _had_ happened to the Weasley family, they all had a fair idea who was responsible. But Voldemort had no reason to attack the Weasleys, Harry told himself firmly ... except Mr Weasley was working against Voldemort at the Ministry ... and Ron was Harry's friend ... 

'Out of my way, Mudblood!' 

As he pushed through the Gryffindors, Malfoy gave Hermione a hard shove -- and was flung halfway down the passage when she automatically shoved back. Crabbe and Goyle gaped and skirted carefully around her before jogging over to help Malfoy up. Harry, who had partnered Hermione in Charms, was pleased to see that his Strengthening Spell had been a good, long-lasting one. 

On their way to Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Hermione craned their necks trying to spot Ron amongst the throngs of students in the corridors, but saw no sign of him. Once they reached the common room, they had to duck past Dean and Seamus, who had put Strengthening Spells on one another and were tossing an armchair back and forth, and dodge Neville's futile attempts to catch Trevor, who was bounding from one end of the room to the other. Ron was slumped in a chair near the fire, looking both miserable and shocked. 

'Ron, what is it?' said Hermione. 

'It's Percy,' said Ron in a stunned voice. 'He's been arrested for murder. They brought him to Azkaban yesterday afternoon.' 

Harry and Hermione gazed at Ron, speechless. Harry found his voice first. 

'Murder? But he couldn't have. I mean, this is Percy we're talking about.' 

'Who was murdered and why do they think Percy did it?' Hermione asked practically. 

She and Harry listened while Ron explained. Two weeks ago, a Hit Wizard named Gideon Watchett had been found dead in his office. In the course of the investigation, it had come out that Watchett had eaten lunch with Penelope Clearwater in the Ministry canteen on several occasions and had once been observed going into her office. This in itself would not have been particularly damning, but a witness had stepped forward claiming he had seen Percy leave the Ministry on the night before the body was discovered, from a door near the Department of Magical Law Enforcement instead of the one he normally used. The prevailing theory was that Percy had learnt Penelope and Watchett were having an affair, and killed him out of jealousy. 

'They arrested Percy because he left from a different exit than usual and the dead man spoke to his girlfriend a couple of times?' said Hermione in amazement. 'Ron, that's _very_ flimsy circumstantial evidence.' 

'It's more than they've got on anyone else,' said Ron bleakly. 'Fred and George reckon the Ministry had to pull in someone, what with the Quidditch World Cup and not being able to recapture Sirius Black. A bunch of other embarrassing stuff was leaked to the _Daily Prophet_ recently, too. Fudge is under a lot of pressure -- worried about a vote of no confidence. And Percy's been in the Ministry's bad books since Crouch was killed. He was sent to the Centaur Office back in July ...' 

'Oh, dear,' said Hermione sympathetically. 

Harry made a mental note to ask her what was so awful about the Centaur Office at some future time when Ron was less distraught. 

'Why did Percy go out that door, anyway?' said Harry. 

'He says he didn't,' said Ron. 'He says whoever it was must have mistaken him for someone else.' 

'And Penelope, what does she have to say about this Gideon Watchett?' said Hermione. 'She wasn't actually -- interested in him, was she?' 

'No,' said Ron. 'She told Magical Law Enforcement that Watchett stopped by her table once or twice to discuss Ministry business, but never visited her in her office. She didn't think enough of it to mention him to Percy, and Percy didn't ask. It makes no difference, though,' he went on gloomily. 'Percy could've heard about Watchett and Penelope from someone, or seen them together himself and decided they were -- you know. But the Ministry's still investigating,' Ron added with a note of forced confidence in his voice. 'They're sure to find another suspect. They've got to ...' 

But the week went by and the Ministry didn't find another suspect. The obvious culprit -- Voldemort -- wasn't even being considered. Fudge continued to insist he had not returned. Mr Weasley and his Ministry allies were unable to press the Minister on this point, as they could think of no reason why Voldemort would have wanted Gideon Watchett dead. Watchett had been a very junior Hit Wizard, assigned none but the most routine cases. 

Word of Percy's arrest spread rapidly through the school. Malfoy made snide remarks about people from poor families being apt to turn to crime; Harry suspected he was mainly responsible for the speed with which the news had travelled around Hogwarts. 

All of the Weasleys were showing the strain. Ginny became almost as depressed and withdrawn as she had been the year the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Fred and George grew sullen and morose. Fred especially was given to unexpected outbursts of temper. He had a nasty quarrel with Lee Jordan over nothing in particular, after which Lee started sitting with Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson at meals. Poor Ron seemed hardest hit, probably because he had seen first-hand the effect that Azkaban had had on Sirius Black. The worst part of it all was that there was nothing any of them could do -- they could scarcely help investigate a murder at the Ministry of Magic from Hogwarts. 

Hermione consulted a number of books on wizarding law. She thought the arrest might have been illegal, but, as she told Harry and Ron dispiritedly, 'The Dark Force Defence Emergency Powers Acts of 1977 have never been revoked. The Minister for Magic can send anyone he likes to Azkaban for as long as he likes. He doesn't even need to have a reason ...' 

November stretched agonisingly into December. One night at dinner, as Malfoy was loudly regaling his fellow Slytherins with descriptions of the terrible state of the prisoners his father had seen in Azkaban, Ron abruptly left the Gryffindor table. He had particularly bad nightmares that evening, twice waking Harry up with his flailing and shouting. Next morning, he refused to go down to breakfast with Harry and Hermione, saying that he wasn't hungry. 

'They've got to find some evidence to clear Percy soon,' said Hermione. 'He _couldn't_ have actually murdered someone.' 

She had cast a Greaseproof Charm on a Zonko's bag and was surreptitiously shovelling in bacon and eggs to take up to Ron. 

'I could murder Malfoy,' said Harry darkly, scowling across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table. 'I _could_ murder Malfoy,' he repeated in a thoughtful tone. 'Don't expect _he_ knows the counter for the Curse of the Slithering Death.' 

'No, Harry, you mustn't!' said Hermione in a terrified whisper. The Zonko's bag fell to the floor with a squelch as she clutched at his arm. 'I can't stand it if you get sent to Azkaban too!' 

'Of course not,' said Harry, startled at the vehemence of her reaction. 'That was just talk. I didn't mean I'd really do it.' 

'Swear you won't,' said Hermione, gripping his arm more tightly still. 'Swear to me you won't use Dark Magic to kill Draco Malfoy!' 

Harry duly swore. This seemed to satisfy Hermione; she let go of Harry's arm and began buttering a couple of pieces of toast. 

'The Slithering Death ... is that something Professor Millarca is teaching you?' she asked disapprovingly as she picked up the Zonko's bag and dropped the toast into it. 

'Only to defend against,' said Harry quickly. 

'Well, I wish she'd teach the rest of us,' said Hermione grumpily. 

Professor Millarca was the newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It was widely agreed that in hiring her, Dumbledore had scraped the very bottom of the barrel. Barely older than many of her students, not only was this Professor Millarca's first teaching position, but her first job of any sort. She mostly taught straight from the set books, with occasional stabs at duplicating the lessons of previous masters (including, according to Dennis Creevey, Lockhart's infamous Pixie class, although she at least had the sense to release the Pixies one at a time, and managed to correctly perform the _Peskipiksi_ charm on her third go.) 

She was, however, developing lessons of her own and had chosen Harry to test them out on, having somehow got it into her head that he was the school's top Dark Arts student. Hermione, who considered the regular classes to be less than challenging, had asked to join them. To her great annoyance, Professor Millarca had determinedly put her off, even after Harry pointed out that Hermione had always got better marks than him and volunteered to let her take his place. Harry didn't exactly dislike Professor Millarca, but it was difficult not to compare her unfavourably to Professor Lupin or even the fake Moody, and he hadn't been keen to spend an extra evening on lessons each week. 

They had been interesting lessons, though, on curses and counter-curses. Harry had thought he'd got a fair grounding in hexes preparing for the Triwizard Tournament, but Professor Millarca knew a few he'd never run across in the Hogwarts library (with good reason, Harry suspected, as they all seemed to involve death in one form or another). And while he didn't truly wish to kill Malfoy, Harry couldn't help thinking how pleasant it would be if Malfoy was sent to the hospital wing for a few weeks, just long enough for Percy to be released from Azkaban. He resolved to ask Professor Millarca next lesson about curses that merely caused lingering minor injuries. 

As Harry and Hermione made their way back to Gryffindor Tower with Ron's breakfast, Fred came hurrying up to them. 

'I want a word with you about Quidditch practice,' he said to Harry. 'You go on, Hermione, Ron'll need time to eat that lot before classes start.' 

Harry was a bit surprised at this. Fred and George had stopped attending the team's training sessions since receiving news of Percy's arrest. Angelina hadn't even been certain they'd bother turning up for the first match of the season. They had, but it soon became obvious, only for the opportunity to pay Malfoy back for the things he'd been saying about Percy. 

Fred and George had marked the Slytherin Seeker ferociously, sending Bludger after Bludger pelting in his direction. Despite -- or perhaps because of -- their Beaters' not-so-hidden agenda, Gryffindor had won handily. Most of Slytherin's highly trained players of two years ago had left Hogwarts. The new Beaters, Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode, didn't have the experience to stand up to the Weasley twins, nor were the three Slytherin Chasers a match for Angelina and Katie. With Malfoy effectively out of the game, Harry had had a clear field to catch the Snitch. Neither Fred nor George, however, had shown the slightest scrap of interest in Quidditch since then ... 

Fred watched Hermione climb the stairs, then flicked his eyes up and down the corridor. Seeing no one around, he leant over and murmured, so softly that Harry could scarcely hear him, 'Meet me behind the mirror on the fourth floor after classes. Don't ask questions now and don't tell anyone where you're going, not even Ron or Hermione. It's life or death that nobody know about this.' In a normal tone he said, 'You'll be there, right?' 

It was hard for Harry not to ask questions, as there were about a thousand of them flitting through his brain. But heeding the warning look on Fred's face, after a brief pause, he simply said, 'Right.' 

Harry had considerable trouble keeping his mind on lessons that afternoon, wondering what Fred and George could possibly be up to. Under ordinary circumstances he would have assumed they wanted his assistance with one of their jokes, but after Percy's arrest they had apparently given up on that sort of thing. 

When their last class let out, Harry told Ron and Hermione he'd forgotten a book in the library and headed for mirror on the fourth floor. Although the passageway to Hogsmeade it concealed was caved in, the space behind the mirror made for an ideal secret meeting place. Harry tapped the glass with his wand and stepped inside. 

A box of Dungbombs stood by the entrance, dust-covered and forlorn. Some wooden crates from Honeydukes had been placed in the middle of the stone-lined tunnel. On one of them was a candle stuck in an empty pumpkin juice bottle. Fred and George were seated on two others, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen them. Harry drew another crate up to the makeshift table and sat down. 

'We want to talk to you about Percy,' said Fred abruptly. 'It's been six weeks with no new evidence uncovered, and we don't expect there ever will be. Whoever murdered Watchett just didn't leave any clues behind.' 

Harry felt a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach. In spite of all the time that had passed, he'd never actually let himself believe that Percy wouldn't eventually get out of Azkaban. 

'Could he really be found guilty on what little they've got? Hermione said it was very flimsy ...' 

'If Percy's left in Azkaban much longer, it won't matter,' said George flatly. 'There've been all kinds of delays -- Dad thinks Lucius Malfoy's behind most of them. He may be able to pull enough strings to get a conviction when the case finally does come to trial. The Ministry needs _someone_ to pin the blame on ...' 

'We can't afford to wait any more,' said Fred. 'It'll do Percy no good to be acquitted if he's gone mad or lost his powers in the meantime. This is killing our dad, he knows what it's like in Azkaban. Charlie says he looks fifty years older, and Mum's not much better off.' 

'But what can we do?' said Harry desperately. 

'We have a plan to break Percy out of prison,' said George, 'but we need your help.' 

It took a moment for Harry's brain to accept what his ears had heard. 

'Us break Percy out of Azkaban?' he said in a strangled sort of voice. 

He would have been certain this was a bad joke, except not even Fred and George would joke about something so serious. 

'It's not as barmy as it sounds,' said George. 'Azkaban hasn't had human warders for almost three months. The Dementors have been getting more and more aggressive, ever since they were sent back there from Hogwarts. Around the middle of last summer, something happened to really set them off. No one's sure what, but they somehow managed to overpower the governor and his staff --' 

'Fed off them for nearly a month before it was discovered,' Fred confirmed. 'All evacuated, of course, and for some reason the Ministry's had a tough job finding anyone to replace them.' 

'Could the Dementors have gone over to Voldemort?' said Harry tensely. 'Dumbledore thought they might.' 

'No, I don't reckon it was anything like that,' said George. 'I mean, the Ministry's been sending teams of Hit Wizards to inspect the place every fortnight, and the Dementors haven't interfered with them.' 

'The Ministry's set up spells to warn them of unauthorised visitors and damage to the fortress, but they haven't quite got the bugs worked out yet,' said Fred. 'They've had a fair few false alarms. Fudge tried giving the Dementors a Signalling Spell, but they just used it continually for no reason.' 

'We think we've found a way around the spell that detects intruders,' said George. 'Even if it doesn't work, between the false alarms and the way the Dementors have been acting, the Ministry won't be too quick to investigate.' 

'With your Firebolt, we could fly out there, get Percy and be gone before anyone showed up to check on things,' said Fred. 'But we must have a Patronus to keep the Dementors at bay while we're doing it. George and I've been practising for over a month, but neither of us can work the charm properly. That's why we need you to come with us.' 

'You won't have to set foot on the island,' said George. 'You can conjure the Patronus from the air. We wouldn't be asking you if there was any other way --' 

'Of course I'll go with you,' said Harry. 

'Excellent!' said Fred and George, beaming at him. It was the first time in six weeks Harry could remember either of them smiling. 'Now here's what we've got to do ...' 

* 

Next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall began the lesson by making a list of the people who were spending the holidays at Hogwarts. 

'You'll be staying, of course, Potter,' she said, dipping her quill in a bottle of ink. 

'Er -- no,' said Harry. 'This Christmas I'll be going back to the Dursleys ...' 

**— to be continued —**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This fic is the latest in a sequence of stories (series title: _The Legacy of Slytherin_). See my Author Page for links and a suggested reading order. Although no one realises it, the thing that set off the Dementors happened in "The Butterflies" -- what it was will be obvious when you read it. Thanks to everyone who's written reviews for my fics. 

The Centaur Office (and what's so bad about being sent there) is described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. You should buy this book, and its companion volume, _Quidditch Through the Ages_, the profits go to **Comic Relief**. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	2. Christmas with the Dursleys

  
  


**— chapter two —**

**CHRISTMAS WITH THE DURSLEYS**

  
'Er -- no,' said Harry. 'This Christmas I'll be going back to the Dursleys.' 

Professor McGonagall's hand jerked sharply, sending the bottle of ink flying. 

'You -- you _are_?' she said. 

'Yes,' said Harry brightly. 'I'm making it up with them. We've quarrelled long enough ... and Christmas is a time for family.' 

Professor McGonagall stared at him as though he'd gone mad. After several moments, she collected herself sufficiently to summon back the ink bottle (fortunately charmed to be unbreakable and unspillable) and carry on taking names, pausing every once in a while to survey Harry with a very peculiar expression indeed. Harry suspected he'd had much the same befuddled look on his face when Fred and George first revealed this part of their plan. 

'I don't see what use the Dursleys will be in getting Percy out of Azkaban,' Harry had objected, 'and Snape will make Neville Slytherin Seeker in Malfoy's place before they forgive me for being a wizard. I couldn't mend fences with them even if I wanted to.' 

'I should hope not, it would ruin everything if you did,' said Fred. 'But you need an excuse to spend the holidays at their house. Sneaking away from Hogwarts is too risky.' 

'Poor Harry, you wanted so much to finally get on with your relatives --' said George in tones of mock sorrow. 

'-- but they weren't having any,' said Fred with a theatrical sigh. 

'So on Christmas Eve --' 

'-- after that huge row you had with them --' 

'-- you went outside to calm down --' 

'-- didn't want to risk any more accidental magic, after all --' 

'-- and wandered around for simply hours --' 

'-- depressed --' 

'-- discouraged --' 

'-- disappointed --' 

'-- completely lost track of the time --' 

'-- at least that's what you'll say if you're asked,' Fred finished. 'Not that you're likely to be, if everything goes according to plan. Obviously once the Ministry finds Percy gone they'll suspect Weasleys were involved, but it'll be mainly us older ones, not Ron and his friends.' 

'_If_ everything goes according to plan,' George repeated grimly. 'If worst comes to worst and we're caught in the act, your line will be that we tricked you into it. You flew up to visit Ron but we headed you off at the orchard. We asked you to help us get some things for our Christmas party. When you realised we'd brought you to Azkaban, you conjured the Patronus in self-defence.' 

The Christmas party was to be the Weasley family's alibi. Charlie, who had come back from Romania to support his parents during the crisis, was arranging for as many people as possible to drop in on Christmas Eve, ostensibly to cheer Mr and Mrs Weasley up. This group, which included a generous sprinkling of Mr Weasley's colleagues from the Ministry of Magic, would serve as witnesses that none of the Weasleys could have been anywhere near Azkaban when the breakout occurred. 

'Fred and I will wear our Christmas jumpers,' said George. 'Only one of us will actually go with you to Azkaban. The other will have to stay at The Burrow and make it look like we're both there by changing the letter on his front.' 

'And Ron can wear a maroon jumper and turn it blue to impersonate you from behind,' Harry suggested. 'That way some of the guests will be able to swear they saw you together.' 

'Absolutely not,' said Fred. 'Ron's knowing nothing about this, nor is anyone else. Why d'you think I picked that fight with Lee Jordan?' 

'The only person we're letting in on this is you,' said George. 'If someone let something slip beforehand, even unintentionally, Percy could be stuck in Azkaban for the rest of his life. If someone let something slip afterwards, we could all be. This isn't a kids' joke.' 

'But Ron's having nightmares!' said Harry. 'Malfoy won't leave him alone, you heard him at dinner last night. What if Ron tries to -- to curse him or something? Then we'd have two people to break out of Azkaban!' 

After some argument, Fred and George reluctantly agreed to give Ron and Ginny a false story. 

'We'll tell them the Ministry's got a fresh lead,' said Fred. 'We can always say later we were making it up so they'd have a happier Christmas.' 

In exchange for this concession, Fred and George made Harry swear some truly frightening wizarding oaths not to breath a word of their scheme to anyone for any reason. So Ron slept easier, although the Skull Horse and the Hounds of Noon gave Harry a few bad nights, and Malfoy was spared a trip to the hospital wing from the Curse of the Slithering Nasty Accident. 

* 

For Harry it was the secrecy that proved to be the most difficult part of the plan. He had never before kept anything so important from Ron and Hermione. They still blamed the Dursleys for Harry's month-long disappearance the previous summer and were exceedingly unhappy about his decision to return to Privet Drive for Christmas. 

'What if they go off and leave you again, and You-Know-Who comes back?' demanded Ron. 

'If they go off and leave me, I'll know to tell Mrs Figg this time,' said Harry. 'But I don't reckon they will. Don't want their house smashed twice, do they?' 

Harry wasn't nearly as offhand about this as he sounded. Having to stay at Mrs Figg's during the holidays would spoil his plans quite thoroughly. To forestall such a contingency, he had taken the precaution of informing Uncle Vernon that his visit was necessary to maintain the magical protection on number four. 

Now that Harry knew something was to be done about Percy, the remaining days of term passed quickly. In what felt like no time at all, the students going home for Christmas were gathered in the Entrance Hall, waiting for the procession of carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall gave Harry one last worried look as she handed out the notes that forbade magic during the holidays. (Harry had asked Fred and George if this would be a problem, but they assured him that the Ministry wouldn't be checking for underage magic around Azkaban.) 

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny rode the same carriage to the station. A light snow was falling outside. Ron and Ginny were sober but not deeply miserable. Fred and George had hinted to them that the Ministry was following up on some promising new evidence and Percy might well be free before the end of the holidays. They'd been warned to remain quiet about this, as Lucius Malfoy would certainly try to sabotage the investigation if he got wind of it. Ron had told Harry and Hermione anyway, which made Harry feel all the more guilty about the secret he was keeping from Ron. 

The Hogwarts Express was decorated with wreaths of holly and garlands of mistletoe. The lunch trolley brought mince pies, Christmas cake and eggnog as well as the usual pumpkin juice and Cauldron Cakes. Harry seized the opportunity to stock up on sweets, as he wasn't expecting much in the way of food from his relations. Considering what he'd let happen to their house and garden over the summer, Harry thought it entirely possible that the Dursleys would force him spend the whole of the holidays locked in his room, or the cupboard under the stairs. 

This troubled him not a bit. He had the penknife Sirius had given him that could unlock any lock, and an escape would be as good as a quarrel for an excuse to fly up to The Burrow. Percy would soon be out of Azkaban and the Weasley family would once more be a happy one, and knowing that made all of the Dursleys' unpleasantness bearable. 

As the Hogwarts Express approached King's Cross, students began changing into Muggle clothes. Harry had outgrown his coat two years ago (lengthwise if not widthwise -- it was second-hand from Dudley). He hadn't bothered to ask Aunt Petunia to replace it, as he was never in the Muggle world during winter. Luckily Harry had the jumpers Mrs Weasley knitted him each year for Christmas. He was wearing all four of them: larger, newer ones on top of smaller, older ones. 

Mrs Weasley and Charlie were waiting beyond the barrier. Fred and George hadn't been exaggerating: Mrs Weasley looked dreadful. Her face was lined and streaks of grey dulled her vivid red hair. There was a suspicious wetness in her eyes as she hugged her remaining children, and she seemed very reluctant to let go of them. 

Hermione's parents stood awkwardly nearby with a pair of trolleys. They were giving Harry a lift to Diagon Alley so he could stop by Gringotts. Fred and George had given him two hundred Galleons to exchange for Muggle money. It would have been considered highly dodgy had the Weasley twins done this themselves, but Harry had Muggle relatives to buy presents for. Harry assumed Percy would lie low as a Muggle after his escape, but Fred and George had told him that the less he knew about Percy's final destination, the better. Once Harry traded the bag of gold (to which he quietly added fifty Galleons of his own) for a stack of fifty-pound notes, the Grangers dropped him off at Paddington station to catch the train to Little Whinging. 

He arrived in Privet Drive to find number four looking as if Voldemort had never flattened it. Apart from being constructed out of slightly newer materials, the rebuilt front was exactly the same as the old one. The door was locked and nobody came when Harry rang the bell, so he used the Skeleton Key attachment on his penknife to let himself in. 

A tall, blond boy, who would have been rather good-looking if not for the nervous, hunted expression on his face, was emerging from the living room. Apparently Dudley had brought home a friend from Smeltings. Harry was astounded that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had allowed it, knowing Harry would be in the house too. 

'Hello,' said Harry, holding out his hand. 'I'm Dudley's cousin -- Harry Potter.' 

The boy gave Harry an appalled look, turned tail and ran down the hall and up the staircase. Harry heard the sound of a door slamming shut upstairs. Obviously Dudley had told his guest quite a lot about Harry. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be livid if they found out. 

Harry stayed in his bedroom until the delicious smell of roast beef lured him down to dinner -- at least the Dursleys seemed to have given up on Dudley's diet. Although Harry had expected his relations to be furious with him after the events of the previous summer, he was taken aback at the looks of sheer hatred his aunt and uncle directed at him when he entered the dining room. Neither Dudley nor his friend was anywhere to be seen. 

As Harry sat down, Aunt Petunia left the room. Harry could hear her voice in the hall, speaking in low, soothingly tones. She came back in leading Dudley's friend by the hand. He looked petrified. Harry eyed him in confusion. 

'Where's --?' Harry started, and then it hit him. The tall, blond boy was Dudley. 

* 

Several times over the next couple of days, Harry caught himself ogling his cousin in stunned disbelief. On those rare occasions he could see him, that is -- if Dudley saw Harry first, he would invariably scurry off to hide. Clearly, Voldemort's attack on number four had affected him far more severely than it had his parents. Dudley hadn't dared bully Harry personally since learning Harry was a wizard, but he'd always thoroughly enjoyed it when Uncle Vernon did. That had changed. Dudley now became so terrified whenever Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were horrible to Harry that they soon went back to ignoring him altogether. 

All in all, life with the Dursleys was as tolerable as it had ever been. Aunt Petunia was cooking wonderful meals (and not stopping Harry from eating them), though strangely enough there were no puddings. With all the weight Dudley had lost, Harry would have thought surely he'd be allowed them again. Though Dudley was still somewhat thicker than a normal boy, this probably actually was due to having big bones. 

In fact, Harry was beginning to feel rather sorry for Dudley. It was difficult to hold a grudge against someone who both looked and acted like a completely different person. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have suspected Smeltings had simply sent home the wrong boy. Harry was also beginning to worry that he might not be able to start a row with the Dursleys when the time came. Fortunately, there was a box of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks in his trunk from last Hogsmeade weekend. If all else failed, letting off a few of them inside the house should do the trick. 

* 

On Christmas Eve, Harry spent the afternoon poring over a fold-out map of Britain. Before leaving the tunnel behind the mirror, Fred and George had asked Harry to toss a coin to decide which of them would accompany him to Azkaban. George had won; he and Harry were meeting in Grimsby. Harry would make his way up there by following the motorways: circling round London along the M25, taking the A1 to Peterborough and then the A16. It was a journey of nearly a hundred and fifty miles, but on his Firebolt Harry could make it in a single hour if need be. 

It was with some trepidation that Harry finally went down to dinner. For all the ill feeling between him and the Dursleys, he didn't normally go out of his way to stir up trouble with them. Doing so when they were still smarting over the damage done to their house on his watch seemed about as safe a prospect as calling a Hippogriff a bastard. But Harry thought of Percy, languishing in Azkaban, and halfway through the meal he nerved himself and launched into a long, pointless tale about his past Christmases at Hogwarts. 

Uncle Vernon's face grew redder and redder as Harry nattered on about wizard crackers and fairy lights that were real fairies. Dudley, however, trembled so fearfully every time his father opened his mouth that Uncle Vernon couldn't quite bring himself to give Harry the savage ticking off he so plainly burnt to. When Aunt Petunia stonily began removing the dishes, Harry knew it would have to be the fireworks. 

Trudging up the stairs, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit guilty about his cousin. All the talk of magic at dinner had clearly placed a great strain on Dudley's nerves, and a load of enchanted fireworks going off under his nose was unlikely to have a calming effect. As he rummaged in his trunk for the Filibuster fireworks, Harry's eyes fell upon the pile of Chocolate Frogs he'd bought on the Hogwarts Express. If he gave them to Dudley and warned him to eat them out of his parents' view, it would keep him in his room during Harry's upcoming indoor fireworks display. Scooping up an armful of Chocolate Frogs, Harry headed back downstairs. 

Dudley was tiptoeing down the hall, seizing the chance to sneak up to his room whilst Harry was out of the way. When he caught sight of his cousin, Dudley let out a petrified squeak. 

'No, wait, it's all right,' said Harry. 'I don't want to talk about -- You-Know-What. I've got some spare Chocolate Frogs you can have for a pudding, your mum and dad needn't know ...' 

He held one out to Dudley, who drew back from it in horror. 

'They're not made of actual frogs,' Harry assured him, 'just chocolate.' 

He ripped open the pack and showed the Chocolate Frog to Dudley. Dudley backed away. It suddenly occurred to Harry what must be bothering him. 

'It's OK, they're not jinxed,' he said. 'Look --' 

Harry took a bite of the Chocolate Frog. Dudley was now sobbing with fright. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came charging out of the dining room to see what was the matter. 

'Darling Duddykins!' wailed Aunt Petunia, flinging her arms around Dudley (who was taller than his mother, Harry noticed with a start). 'What have you done to him?' she spat at Harry. 

'I didn't do anything to him,' said Harry in bewilderment. 'I just thought he might like a sweet.' 

At these words, Uncle Vernon swelled like a great purple toad and pitched into Harry as never before. From the spittle-flecked diatribe that followed, Harry was given to understand that Dudley had been deathly afraid of sweets since the incident of the Ton-Tongue Toffee, and moreover, that this fact had not gone unnoticed by the many smaller boys Dudley had bullied in his first three years at Smeltings. As a result, not only had Dudley not had any sweets for almost eighteen months, he'd also spent a lot of time running. The secret of his extraordinary weight loss was revealed. 

'But I wasn't ... I didn't ...' said Harry. Then he realised he'd been handed his cue. 'You always blame me for everything,' he shouted at Uncle Vernon. 'It's your fault what happened to Dudley, if you'd told Mr Weasley he'd've come and put a Memory Charm on him, but I reckon you hate wizards too much to ever ask one for help. I've had it with the lot of you! I'm off!' 

Harry threw the Chocolate Frogs to the floor, shoved past the three Dursleys and stormed out the front door right on schedule. Rather than heading down the drive, however, he slipped round to the back garden and crept into the greenhouse, where he had concealed the things he'd be needing for his trip north: his Firebolt, his Invisibility Cloak, his four Weasley jumpers and the brass compass from the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him (his wand, the maps and the bundle of Muggle money he had kept in his pockets). Although Harry was aware he was flying into a fairly dangerous situation, as he soared up into the freezing air his main emotion was relief at leaving Privet Drive and the Dursleys far behind. 

Soon Harry was streaking along above the motorway, overtaking the few cars that were out as if they were standing still. The evening was clear, though extremely cold. Harry ran into the odd flurry of snow but no serious bad weather, reaching the Grimsby docks little over ninety minutes later. He and George had arranged to rendezvous at the hydraulic tower. Circling the Royal Dock, Harry spotted a flash of red hair in the shadows and glided towards it. 

'George?' he called quietly. 

George gazed upwards, eyes darting to and fro (Harry was still invisible). With a small thump, Harry landed beside him. 

'Ah, Harry, good,' said George. 

George ducked under the Invisibility Cloak, climbed onto the Firebolt in front of Harry and flew them across the dark water to a rickety wooden shed at the back of a fish curer's. Inside the shed, George pulled a bundle of black cloth out of a backpack that was sitting a stack of crates and tossed it to Harry. 

'Here, change into these,' he said. 'If we run into anyone on the way, we don't want to be identified by our clothes.' 

Harry put on the outfit George had provided, which he was pleased to see included a thick black cloak. It was an unusually icy night even for December and four jumpers hadn't been enough to keep Harry properly warm whilst flying at high speed. 

When George finished changing his own clothes, he opened the backpack again and drew out two leather belts. One of them was strung with a pair of leads and collars; George fastened it around his waist. He passed the other belt to Harry. 

'We'll make better time if we use the Firebolt to tow the Cleansweeps. I'll charm you and Percy to be feather-light and attach the collars to your belts,' said George, ferreting in the backpack once more. 'And we mustn't forget this, it's the most important thing.' 

He produced a small, grubby-looking square of parchment with a flourish. 

'What is it?' said Harry. 

'A pass from the Ministry of Magic to visit Azkaban,' said George. 'As long as I'm carrying this, I won't set off the intruder alarms.' 

Harry's mouth fell open. 'How'd you get _that_?' 

'Old one of Dad's,' said George. 'The Ministry doesn't bother taking them back. They won't work unless your name's been written on with a special quill by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the ink fades after a day.' 

'And you got the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to write your name on it?' said Harry incredulously. 

'Of course not,' said George, 'but a blank pass will work for a wizard with no name.' 

'But you've got a name,' Harry pointed out. 'It's George Weasley.' 

'Are you sure of that?' said George with a crooked smile. 

By now Harry had no trouble telling the Weasley twins apart at point-blank range. The red-haired boy in front of him was definitely a Weasley twin, but as Harry inspected him more closely an alarming realisation swept over him. 

'You aren't Fred _or_ George!' 

Harry's wand was in his hand and levelled at the unknown twin almost before he'd had time to think. 

The twin laughed. 'Relax, Harry, I am George,' he said, holding up his hands as though to ward off a curse. 'Or I was until I used the Gemini Charm to give my name to Fred.' 

'Used the what to _what_?' said Harry, now completely at sea. 

'The Gemini Charm,' George repeated. 'Lets twins transfer powers to each other. And not just magical powers, but things like strength and reflexes. Fred and I use it for Quidditch a lot, we can Dopplebeater from opposite ends of the pitch. If I had a scar like your one, I could move it onto Fred's forehead or we could share it -- both have scars, only fainter. Instead of a scar, I moved my name. Fred is Fred _and_ George now, and I'm no one. See how the ink on the pass turns green when I touch it? That means it's activated. You'll have to stay in the air, but I can go on the island and get Percy without raising an alarm. It'll be days before he's discovered missing.' 

George paused for a satisfied smirk, then reached into the backpack and took out a couple of black balaclavas. 

'Remember your alibi,' he said as they pulled them on. 'When you flew up to the party, I intercepted you outside the house and asked you to come with me to fetch more food.' 

Fred and George's Cleansweep Fives were propped against the back wall. George handed one to Harry and strapped the other to his back with a third belt. 

'You should get on your broom before I cast the Feather-Light Charm,' he told Harry, drawing his wand. 

Harry swung a leg over the Cleansweep and George performed the spell. It felt very weird being feather-light; the slightest motion sent him drifting gently up into the air. George fastened one of the collars hanging off his belt to Harry's, mounted the Firebolt, draped the Invisibility Cloak over the pair of them and shuffled awkwardly out the shack. Harry was tugged along by the lead and collar, his feet floating inches above the ground. 

'Right, Harry, we kick off on the count of three,' said George. 'One -- two -- three --' 

And they were off. 

**— to be continued —**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

If you're puzzled about what happened to Harry over the summer, it's because you haven't read "The Serpent of Lord Voldemort". A link to this story can be found on my Author Page, along with a suggested reading order for all the other fics in the series. Thank you to all the people who've read and reviewed. 

ETA for the next chapter is April 14. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	3. Christmas Over Britain

  
  


**— chapter three —**

**CHRISTMAS OVER BRITAIN**

  
George pushed the Firebolt to the limit of its speed. Breathing was difficult and talk impossible as he and Harry tore through the bitter North Sea air. In scarcely a quarter of an hour, a mound of weathered stone appeared on the dark horizon. It grew rapidly into a large and forbidding castle, a ruin of jagged walls and broken turrets that took up most of the island it was perched upon. George brought them to a halt a hundred yards from the shore. 

'Right,' he said, unfastening his belt from Harry's. 'This is it. Conjure your Patronus and wait here under the Cloak while I get Percy." 

Harry nodded. He drew his wand and concentrated on a happy memory: of meeting Ron on the Hogwarts Express and making his first friend. 

'_Expecto Patronum!_' he shouted. 

A silvery white stag erupted from the tip of his wand and streaked towards Azkaban, with George in hot pursuit. Harry saw them land in a sort of courtyard. George pointed his wand at the entrance to the central tower and its heavy iron grating rose slowly upwards. 

Three tall, hooded Dementors swept out. Harry's Patronus chased them off, but several others came gliding after them. The stag circled round. Whilst it was occupied with the second batch of Dementors, a dozen more sallied forth. 

There seemed to be no end of them. The stag galloped hither and thither; the instant it charged down one group, the rest came swarming back. Each time George approached the fortress, their icy, draining power sent him reeling. Then, to Harry's horror, he swayed and crumpled to the rocky ground. The Dementors closed in. 

In the nick of time, the silver stag came pelting over. It stood beside George, antlers lowered menacingly, as he struggled onto the Firebolt and took off at full tilt. 

'It's no good, one Patronus isn't enough to handle them,' George panted as he pulled level with Harry. 'We'll have to go back.' 

There was a sick despair in his eyes that reminded Harry of Sirius when he spoke of his time in Azkaban. 

'No!' said Harry furiously. 'Not without Percy.' He called to mind how he had felt as he soared away from Privet Drive with Ron, Fred and George in their flying car. 'EXPECTO PATRONUM!' 

A second burst of silver shot out his wand and headed for the island. 

'You stay with George!' Harry called out to it rather breathlessly. 

The Patronus, a dazzling white wizard with long, flowing hair, halted in mid-air and beckoned George to follow. George gave Harry a swift, astounded look, then zoomed after it into the dark fortress. 

Harry hovered over Azkaban feeling very queer indeed. It was as though someone had drilled a hole in his head and all of his thoughts had dribbled out of it. He knew he should be worried about George, battling his way through the prison's Dementor-infested corridors, but simply holding on to his broomstick took every ounce of Harry's attention. 

He gazed vacantly down at the courtyard below, where the stag was still herding Dementors to and fro. After some time, the shining silver wizard emerged from the fortress again, trailed closely by George and, Harry was vaguely pleased to note, Percy. Percy was obviously in a very bad way -- hardly able to walk, half dragged and half carried by his brother. 

George and Percy's appearance seemed to enrage the Azkaban guards. Every Dementor in the courtyard jostled towards the two Weasleys, pressing as close as the Patronus would allow. Percy stumbled and fell. The sight of George trying frantically to get him to his feet roused Harry from his stupor. 

'_Spec_,' he muttered. He shook his head to clear it. Gripping his wand tightly, Harry dredged up an image of Mrs Weasley smiling kindly at him and carefully and deliberately enunciated, '_Expecto Patronum._' 

The next thing he felt was a cold so intense that it burnt. He gasped in shock and choked on salty water. There was light above him; he kicked towards it with all his might. At last his head broke the surface. Spotting his wand floating nearby, Harry floundered in its direction, so frozen he could barely swim. 

As his fingers clutched the wand, a voice yelled, 'Harry! Is that you? _Wingardium Leviosa!_' 

Harry was lifted out of the sea and into the air, where he hung shivering and dripping as George looked him up and down in consternation. 

'Harry, take off the Cloak, I can't _see_ you,' said George. 

Harry wriggled out of the Invisibility Cloak. George cast rapid Drying and Thawing Charms on him. 

'_Accio Firebolt!_' said Harry. 

His broom came sailing over. He clambered shakily onto it ... and nearly tumbled off again when George ended the Levitation Charm. 

'George,' panted Harry, 'put a Strengthening Spell on me!' 

'_Stabilio!_' said George. 

Harry's grip on the Firebolt steadied. He glanced around and saw Percy huddled feebly on the second Cleansweep beside George. 

'I reckon Percy could use one too.' 

George flicked his wand impatiently at his brother 

'What happened?' he asked Harry tensely. 'Was it the Dementors? Were you attacked?' 

'No,' said Harry. 'That last Patronus -- it did me right in.' 

'It saved our lives,' said George. 'Scattered the Dementors just long enough for me to get Percy on the Cleansweep. I didn't realise it was possible to conjure up more than one.' 

'Nor did I,' said Harry. His lingering feelings of cold, exhaustion and light-headedness were washed away by a powerful rush of happiness. 'You did it! You got him!' 

'Thanks to you,' said George. 

They grinned at each other. 

'All right, Percy?' said Harry. 

Percy looked up at him but didn't smile. There was a horrible emptiness in his eyes. The grin vanished from George's face. 

'We've got to get out of here, fast,' he said. 'Those Dementors have gone spare, even the Patronus couldn't quite hold them back. I had to knock down a few of the walls to keep them off. The damage alarms will have the Ministry heading this way for sure.' 

He tossed one of the leads attached to his belt to Harry. 'Put this on and throw that Cloak over you and Percy.' 

Harry fastened the collar and arranged the Invisibility Cloak. 

'You two hang on tight,' said George, grasping the Firebolt with both hands. 

'Wait!' said Harry. He pointed his wand skywards and shouted, '_Morsmordre!_' 

Green and glittering evilly, the Dark Mark rose over Azkaban. George gaped up at the blazing skull, then back at Harry. 

'Let Voldemort take the blame for this one,' said Harry grimly. 

George leant forward and sent the Firebolt hurtling off, yanking Harry and Percy along in his wake. He drove the Firebolt even harder on their return journey. In mere minutes, they were back at the shack in the Grimsby docks. 

Harry and George changed hurriedly into their own clothes. George had brought a Muggle outfit for Percy and a bottle of Gilderoy Lockhart's Thestral Feather Black Hair Potion, which he poured over his brother's head to disguise his flaming Weasley hair. 

Percy looked terrible. His hands moved slowly and shakily; his face was gaunt and hollow and dreadfully pale beneath his newly blackened hair. 

Whilst Percy was dressing, George took Harry aside. 

'Now that the Ministry knows something's up at Azkaban, we'll have to do things a bit differently,' he said. 'I'll take the Firebolt -- I've got to be at The Burrow when Magical Law Enforcement turns up, and rather I'm found with it than you. You'll fly Percy to Bristol on the Cleansweeps under the Invisibility Cloak. Here --' 

George took a map out of the backpack and ran his finger over it. 

'Can't go through Nottingham, you might run into Ministry wizards flying up from London,' he muttered. 'Detour through Manchester ... don't bother trying to follow the motorways, just fly due west and you'll spot the city by its lights ... only mind you don't get drawn off course by Sheffield. Then it's the M6 to Birmingham and the M5 to Bristol.' 

George looked up at Harry. 

'It's a long flight. D'you reckon you can manage it? I'd send Percy on alone, but the state he's in, I honestly don't think he'd make it.' 

'I got here from Little Whinging, didn't I?' said Harry. 

In truth, he was far less confident than he sounded. It would mean travelling through more large cities in a single night than in the entire rest of his life. But George was right: left to his own devices, Percy would never reach Bristol. 

George gave Harry an envelope with a key. The name and address of a hotel were scribbled on it. 

'Stay under the Cloak until you get to Percy's room. There's a bag of food in the wardrobe, try to see he eats something. You've got the Muggle money?' 

Harry passed George the bundle of notes. George turned and handed them to Percy. 

'You go with Harry, Perce. Lie low until --' George leant over to whisper the rest of his instructions in his brother's ear. 'Sorry, mate,' he said to Harry as he straightened up. 'Less you know, the better.' 

George heaped their kit from Azkaban in the middle of the shack, took a box of wooden matches from his pocket, lit one and set it on top. When the match had burnt all the way down, the whole pile was consumed in a flash of white fire. George gave the box to Harry. 

'Take both Cleansweeps with you when you leave Bristol. Once you get to your house --' a flicker of pain crossed George's face, but he went on resolutely, '-- burn them. Put the matches on the fire as well, that will destroy all the evidence.' 

'Burn your Cleansweeps!' said Harry in horror, recalling the many Quidditch matches those valiant brooms had won. 

'We can't have them being found in your or Percy's possession,' said George flatly. He glanced down at his watch. 'Right, we'd best be off ...' 

As George headed for the door, Harry had a sudden, awful thought. 

'George, what about your clock?' he said urgently. 'The one in your living room, with hands for all your family -- won't it show Percy's not in prison any more?' 

For an instant, George looked panicked. Then relief spread over his face. 

'The clock's in the cellar with its face to the wall,' he said. 'Charlie brought it down there weeks ago -- it was upsetting Mum.' 

George hopped on the Firebolt and with a great whoosh of air was gone. Harry and Percy flew more slowly westwards to Manchester. The Cleansweeps' top speed would still have allowed them to hold a conversation, but Percy didn't seem to want to talk and Harry was too intent on his navigations. 

They arrived in Bristol around three in the morning and made it to the hotel room without incident. Percy slumped on the edge of the bed, looking as exhausted as Harry felt. Harry opened the wardrobe, found the bag of food, unwrapped a package of sandwiches and offered one to Percy, who waved it away. Harry took a bite himself and set the rest of the package on the bed beside Percy. 

'You should eat,' Harry said as he poured tea from a flask. 'You need to keep your strength up. We'll find a way to prove you didn't kill Watchett. The Ministry of Magic's still investigating, and your dad --' 

'Father's working on the Watchett case?' said Percy, his voice aghast. 'Harry, you've got to stop him!' 

'Stop him?' said Harry. 'How come?' 

For a long while Percy was silent. When he finally spoke again, his tones were flat and deadened. 

'You've got to stop him because I did kill Watchett.' 

Harry dropped his sandwich. 

'You mean Watchett _was_ having an affair with Penelope?' he said stupidly. 

'No, of course not,' said Percy, in his irritation momentarily sounding like his old self. 'He'd caught me in the Magical Law Enforcement wing, rifling their files for information to give to the _Daily Prophet_ --' 

'_You_ were behind those leaks Ron was talking about?' said Harry in high astonishment. 'But -- why?' 

'I wanted Cornelius Fudge out of office!' said Percy fiercely. 'He's been running the Ministry into the ground. Mr Crouch was dead, murdered by Dark wizards, and all he cared about was covering it up!' 

Percy glared at the wardrobe as if he thought Fudge might be hiding it, then continued more quietly, 'A Hit Wizard named Murdock Riversedge came to me. He had a plan to get rid of Fudge and replace him with someone who took their Magical Law Enforcement seriously. As I'd been transferred to the Centaur Liaision Office, I had a lot of spare time. I combed the Ministry's records for things that would make Fudge look an idiot and leaked them the _Daily Prophet_. Only somehow Watchett got wind of what I was doing. He started investigating me -- that's why he talked to Penelope. When he found me in the filing room ...' Percy's voice dropped. 'I only meant to Stun him. But hexing a person when you're scared or angry -- it's not like Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. I lost control ... hit him too hard ...' 

Harry shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing ... he didn't want to believe it. But Percy wasn't finished yet. 

'Watchett -- before I -- before I killed him -- he said Riversedge was working for You-Know-Who. He thought I was, too -- I wasn't, I swear, but Riversedge was. He had the Dark Mark branded on his arm, he showed me after I was arrested. He told me if I said anything, he'd convince the Ministry that Father was involved. So I kept quiet. I shouldn't have let George rescue me ... I deserved Azkaban ... but I couldn't bear it any more ... I couldn't ...' 

Percy buried his face in his hands. Harry gazed down at him, utterly lost for words. Percy was guilty ... a murderer ... 

But it had been an accident, Harry told himself. Fudge said they didn't send people to Azkaban for accidents when he'd blown up Aunt Marge. Yet Harry knew that there was a very big difference between accidentally inflating an aunt and accidentally killing a policeman. _Hexing a person when you're scared or angry ..._ he was suddenly extremely glad he hadn't proceeded with his plan to curse Draco Malfoy into the hospital wing. 

Remembering Malfoy and how he had tormented Ron over Percy's arrest yanked Harry's thoughts back to the present. 

'You can't go to Azkaban, think of your family,' he said to Percy. 'Your mum's in a right state, and Ron too. You've got to get a grip ... do what George told you ... here, eat your sandwich.' 

Harry picked up the sandwich he'd dropped and thrust it at Percy. After watching Percy eat it, Harry collected the Cleansweeps and the Invisibility Cloak and made for the door. 

'I need to be getting back to Privet Drive,' he said. 'You'll be OK, won't you?' 

'But Father, he's in danger,' said Percy urgently. 'Riversedge -- the Watchett case -- you've got to warn him off --' 

'I will,' promised Harry as he slipped out the room. 

It was good that Harry's route from Bristol ran straight along the M4. George's Strengthening Charm had long since worn off. It was all Harry could do to keep his broomstick pointed in the right direction on the long, icy flight to Little Whinging. 

He stared numbly at the motorway beneath him, his mind reeling with what Percy had told him. He couldn't stop himself picturing the scene: a sudden blaze of scarlet light ... a man falling to the floor and lying there, unmoving ... in his imagination, Watchett looked very much like Cedric Diggory. Harry thought of Cedric's father, sobbing beside his bed, and wondered how Watchett's parents had taken the news of their son's death. 

Then he thought of the Weasleys. Would knowing Percy had been given to the Dementors for a crime he'd actually committed make it any easier for them to endure? And how on earth was he going to warn Mr Weasley about Riversedge? After Percy's escape, Magical Law Enforcement would be keeping a close watch on the Weasleys. Any attempt to contact them would draw the Ministry's attention, and with all the time he'd been gone, Harry's alibi for the evening wasn't exactly watertight. 

He could tell Dumbledore, of course, but it would mean admitting his part in the breakout, not to mention the fact that Percy really was responsible for Watchett's murder. Dumbledore had helped Harry keep an innocent man out of Azkaban -- would he be willing to do the same for a guilty one? If Percy was sent back because of Harry, he'd never be able to face the Weasleys again ... 

Harry came in to land near the spot where he had first encountered his godfather before catching the Knight Bus. It had snowed whilst he was away. Several inches of glittering white powder covered the pavement. Harry stumbled off his broom and ducked into the gap between the garage and the fence of number two, Magnolia Crescent. He laid the Cleansweeps on the ground, along with the belt, the lead and collar, the maps and the box of enchanted matches, and burnt the lot. 

When the fire faded, Harry moved deeper into the narrow alleyway and sank down, shivering, against the garage wall. He checked his watch. It was almost five o'clock in the morning. In little over eight hours, he'd flown halfway across the country and back. At least he didn't have to worry about sneaking into the house -- the Dursleys must certainly be asleep by now. 

It abruptly hit Harry that on top of all his other problems, he was facing a fortnight with a surpassingly infuriated Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He shuddered and slumped down further ... and felt something prick him painfully in the leg. 

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. His jaw dropped. The wand had sprouted three tiny sprigs of holly. The spiky green leaves and plump red berries glowed with a soft inner light in the dim alleyway. Thinking he might have begun to hallucinate from tiredness, Harry smacked himself in the side of the head, but the holly was still there afterwards. 

Too exhausted to ponder what this startling development might signify, Harry tore off the bits of holly, stuck them in his jumper and shoved the wand back in his pocket. Snow was falling again, but somehow he didn't feel cold. I'll just rest here a bit longer, he thought to himself, leaning back against the wall ... 

* 

Aunt Petunia was shaking him and calling his name, but Harry was too tired to get up, or even to tell her to leave him alone. Then the smell of smoke reached his nostrils. She's set my bed on fire, he thought indignantly. 

Harry's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright. He wasn't in his room at number four and the man in wizard's robes goggling down at him was definitely not Aunt Petunia. Nor did there appear to be any fire -- merely a light dusting of ash on his jumper and two sprigs of holly instead of the three he'd had the night before. 

'I don't believe it!' yelled the wizard. He ran to the door shouting, 'Minister! Minister, come back! He's alive!' 

**— to be continued —**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Thestrals are from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_; the Doppelbeater Defence (mentioned last chapter) is from _Quidditch Through the Ages_. ETA for the next chapter is April 28. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	4. Holiday Catastrophes

  
  


**— chapter four —**

**HOLIDAY CATASTROPHES**

  
Cornelius Fudge came puffing into the room, a pair of witches in fiery orange twinsets and lavender-tinted pearls at his heels. One of the witches was plumpish with mousey hair worn in a bun. The other Harry recognised as the black Hit Witch who, summer before last, had taken Constable Pascoe off after the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol rescued her and Harry from Professor Snape (whom they had mistaken for Sirius Black). The three of them stood gaping at Harry, the witches in pure astonishment and Fudge looking as though he'd just been told Christmas wasn't going to be cancelled after all. 

'Harry, what happened to you?' said Fudge. 'We thought you were dead!' 

Harry swung his legs off the table he'd been lying on and brushed the soot from his clothes. He was inside a tiny, stone-walled room, whose only other furniture was a battered desk and a shelf of peculiar-looking objects. His whole body felt stiff and sore, as if he'd slept on the ground all night. 

'I ... had a row with the Dursleys and went out for a walk,' said Harry guardedly. 'Where am I? How did I get here?' 

'You were lying in an alley under six inches of snow,' said the brown-haired witch reproachfully. 'I shook you and shook you, but you didn't answer me!' 

'I thought you were my Aunt Petunia,' Harry told her. 

'Minister, I don't understand it,' the wizard broke in. 'He was cold as ice, he had no pulse ... I performed the Sickle test, you watched me, and the water didn't smoke. Then when I cast the Thawing Charm to start the post mortem, he woke right up!' 

Harry frowned at his jumper. 'You set my holly on fire.' 

'Harry,' said Fudge, 'think carefully. Can you remember anything -- anything at all -- about the person who attacked you?' 

'What?' said Harry, staring at him. 'No one attacked me. I walked for a couple of hours and stopped to rest. I must've fallen asleep. Did the Dursleys report me missing?' 

'You were out in that weather with nothing but a jumper?' said the black witch. 

'Four jumpers,' Harry corrected her. 'I didn't have a Muggle coat.' 

Four jumpers and his Invisibility Cloak, which he spotted hanging on an iron hook near the door. 

The black witch eyed Harry uneasily. 'Minister -- do you think -- is it possible he simply froze to death?' 

'On the same evening as the attack on Azkaban and the robbery at the British Museum?' said Fudge. 'You'll forgive me if I have difficulty believing in that sort of coincidence. Good God, the _Daily Prophet_ would've had a field day!' 

'Robbery at the British Museum?' said Harry. He quickly added, 'Attack on Azkaban?' 

'Never you mind that,' said Fudge firmly. 'Lichfield, look after him, we don't want him dying again. I must notify Ormesby of this at once. White, Sargent, if you could spread the word to the rest of the Ministry ... you know how stories travel around here ... wouldn't want any unfortunate rumours reaching the ears of the wizarding public ...' 

Fudge bustled out of the room. The two witches gawked at Harry for a moment longer, then hastened after him. 

Lichfield began rather timidly to examine Harry using the instruments from the shelf in the corner. He dithered over each selection, as though genuinely frightened that Harry would drop dead once more if prodded in the wrong place with the wrong object. The mediwizard was tapping Harry in the kidneys with a small glass hammer when Fudge returned with Ormesby in tow. 

Harry sat up, his heart beating faster. Ormesby had been the leader of the squad of Hit Wizards who had come to Privet Drive looking for Sirius Black. The short, innocuous-looking wizard had a notably sinister reputation: according to Ron, Ormesby had, years earlier, been thrown out of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol for brutality. Sirius' escape, however, had brought about his reinstatement, apparently to a position of some authority. All things taken into account, Ormesby was one of the last people Harry would have wished to run into the morning after breaking somebody out of prison. 

Ormesby raked Harry over with beady eyes. 

'Is he fit to answer questions?' he demanded of Lichfield. 

'I -- well -- I don't know,' floundered Lichfield. 'He seems to be in good health, apart from being dead five minutes ago.' 

Ormesby shot Lichfield an irritated look and turned to Harry, who tried to appear as recently deceased as possible. The more ill he was reckoned to be, the less likely he'd be suspected of having anything to do with Azkaban. 

'Sargent spoke with your uncle,' said Ormesby grimly. 

There was a long pause. 

'I -- I hope he wasn't too horrible to her,' Harry finally said. 

Uncle Vernon's opinion of black people was scarcely a notch less low than his opinion of wizards, and Sargent's hair -- which stood out nearly a foot from her head in all directions -- would have been another very serious strike against her. 

Plainly this was not the response Ormesby had been expecting. 

'Your uncle told Sargent you threatened your cousin with hexed chocolates and ran off when he confronted you,' he said sharply. 

'I didn't _threaten_ him,' said Harry indignantly, 'I offered him one. I didn't realise Dudley was scared of sweets. And they weren't hexed -- just ordinary Chocolate Frogs.' 

'If that's the case, why did you run away?' countered Ormesby. 

'Because I was sick of being blamed for everything that went wrong around there,' said Harry bitterly. 

'We'll be checking the frogs for jinxes, you know,' said Ormesby, watching Harry carefully for his reaction. 

Harry shrugged. 

'Had you eaten any of them yourself?' 

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Not that day, but I'd bought the box on the Hogwarts Express.' 

'Hmpf,' grunted Ormesby. 'Where did you go after you left your relatives' house?' 

'Just -- around,' said Harry. 'I was waiting for the Dursleys to fall asleep before I went back.' 

'So you'd have been keeping fairly close track of the time?' said Ormesby, for the first time sounding truly interested in what Harry had to say. 

'Er, yes ...' said Harry. 'The Dursleys usually go to bed at eleven. I stopped in Magnolia Crescent about a quarter before ...' 

'Roughly the same time the alarms went off at Azkaban,' said Ormesby thoughtfully. 'Did you see anyone else while you were out walking, or notice anything out of the ordinary?' 

Harry shook his head. 

'I'll have the Patrol check for signs of magical concealment,' said Ormesby to Fudge. 'Definitely a suspicious set of circumstances, and not only due to the timing. A fifteen-year-old boy was gone the whole night and most of the next day, yet his family made no attempt to find him? We'll want to examine them for curses, as well.' (Harry had to stifle a snigger, imagining the Dursleys reaction to that.) 'We can put Potter up in one of the spare offices until we're convinced it's safe for him to return home. Under guard, of course, and Lichfield should stay with him tonight.' 

Ormesby pointed his wand at the door and sent a silver arrow shooting out of it into the corridor. Minutes later, a dark-haired, square-jawed man wearing Hit Wizard's robes came strolling in. In a few terse sentences, Ormesby explained the situation to the newly arrived Hit Wizard, who was called Lamplough. 

Lamplough escorted Harry and Lichfield down a maze of narrow, torch-lit corridors, up a stone staircase and along another, wider passageway. Through the windows of open offices, Harry saw that darkness had fallen again. A number of harried-looking Ministry members were still at work; they gaped at Harry as he passed. 

When they reached the spare office, Lamplough laid claim to the chair from the desk and stationed himself outside the door. Lichfield magicked the remaining furniture to one side of the room, conjured up a camp bed with two thick eiderdowns and started a roaring fire in the grate. Clearly he was taking no chances on Harry freezing to death a second time. 

Once Harry was under the eiderdowns, Lichfield knelt and stuck his head into the fire, emerging shortly with a floating tray clenched between his teeth. He carried the tray to Harry's bed. On it was bowl of turkey soup and, to Lichfield's annoyance, a small dish of trifle. 

'Now, really,' he said, upon spotting the latter, 'I specifically told the house-elves, no puddings!' 

'Oh, go on,' said Lamplough. 'It's Christmas.' 

'Be that as it may,' said Lichfield stiffly, 'I don't feel he ought to be having such rich food so soon after being dead.' 

He turned to see Harry scraping the last dollops of custard from the bottom of the dish. Fourteen years of living with the Dursleys had left him practised in the art of wolfing down his food before it could be taken away from him. 

Whilst Harry ate his soup, Lichfield used a Summoning Charm to bring a stream of potion bottles sailing into the room, until there were nearly a dozen lined up on the mantelpiece. Harry was afraid the mediwizard might make him drink them all, but Lichfield finally settled on a single one, which proved to contain the same foul-tasting Wizard Tonic that Harry had been dosed with in autumn by Madam Pomfrey. When Harry finished the potion, Lichfield let him have the empty bottle as a vase for his surviving sprigs of holly, on condition that he lie down and get some sleep. 

Harry rolled onto his side and pulled the eiderdowns over his head. The Ministry thought someone had tried to kill him. Tomorrow they'd be combing Little Whinging for evidence. That was all right -- Harry had burnt the Cleansweeps and all his gear, except for the brass compass, which was still in his pocket. There was nothing to left to connect him with Azkaban ... 

*

In the morning Lichfield took Harry back to the room in the basement for another examination. After that Harry was questioned to see if he had recalled any more details about the previous evening, first by Ormesby and then by the other Hit Wizards who were in on the investigation. 

Unsurprisingly, they had found no clues to the identity of Harry's attacker in Privet Drive. Various odd theories were being put forth to account for this; Harry spent the next two hours failing to provide corroborating evidence for any of them. No, he had not noticed the moon turning pink, or a strange tingling in his earlobes, or the smell of burning beetroot (not that he would have recognised this odour if he had smelled it). 

At lunchtime the whole Weasley family crammed themselves into the spare office to visit Harry, all of them looking highly upset. 

'Out in the snow with only a jumper on, what were you thinking?' said Mrs Weasley in a trembling voice. 'If you'd died, on top of everything else ...' 

'It was four jumpers, actually,' said Harry, but nobody was listening. 

'It's all our fault,' said George bitterly. 'We should never have let you spend Christmas with those Muggles, we knew what they were like.' 

'Do you remember anything about what happened to you on Christmas Eve?' said Fred tensely. 

'Nothing happened to me,' said Harry, 'I walked around Little Whinging for a couple of hours and --' 

It dawned on him that Fred and George must be mad with worry about Percy, particularly if they believed as the Ministry did that Harry had been attacked by Dark wizards. 

'I did meet a man,' said Harry, keeping his voice offhand but locking his eyes on George's. 'He was a bit grotty-looking -- homeless, I suppose -- but I gave him some Muggle money so he could, you know, make it to a night shelter. I expect he managed to _get where he was going_ ...' 

'Ah,' said George, 'good.' 

Mr Weasley gave Harry a look of keen interest. 

'You met a man?' he said. 'Can you recall what he looked like?' 

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the Hit Wizard who was guarding him quietly get up and slip out. His heart sank. 

'Well, I didn't really get a good view of his face, as he was all wrapped up from the cold.' Hoping to change the subject, Harry continued, 'Fudge said there was an attack on Azkaban. Have you heard if Percy's OK?' 

Mr Weasley sagged. 'No, we've had no word. The Ministry's still trying to reason with the Dementors and having very little luck. The prisoners the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol managed to remove haven't been able to give us much information either. Perhaps when they've had a day or two to recover --' 

'Reason with the Dementors?' said Harry in puzzlement. 'I thought Fudge said Azkaban had been _attacked_.' 

'It was,' said Mr Weasley, 'we think. There was damage to the fortress the Dementors couldn't have done themselves, and several of the prisoners say they saw wizards flying around outside.' 

'Er -- anyone they recognised?' said Harry. 

'Why, yes,' said a cool voice from the door. 'Father Christmas and his reindeer and a partridge in a pear tree. All barking of course -- time in Azkaban obviously affecting their minds. One of them even swore she saw Dumbledore.' 

Ormesby swept into the room, scattering Weasleys in his wake. 

'Now tell me about this man you met.' 

Harry's main concern in the interview that followed was to say nothing that might lead the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to Percy. He kept his descriptions vague, telling Ormesby that the man had worn a long, shabby, light brown coat (George had got Percy a new black puffa jacket) and that his hair and face had been hidden by a woolly hat and a long scarf, both also fraying and brown, or possibly olive. Harry did admit that the man had been taller than he was. Few fully-grown wizards weren't, Ormesby himself being a notable exception. 

'But I'm sure he didn't attack me,' said Harry. 'I definitely would've remembered that.' 

'He may not have needed to,' said Ormesby. 'If you'd been cursed, the Improper Use of Magic Office should have detected it, and they report no unauthorised spellcasting in the area that night.' 

He fastened a gimlet eye on Mr Weasley. 

'We're leaning towards the theory that an enchanted object was used. There was a patch of ice near the place he was found, as if the snow was melted and then froze again. It's likely something was burnt there with a magical igniter. A blanket with a built-in Sleeping Charm, for example: toss it over him, leave it for an hour and the cold would do the rest. We'll be requesting the assistance of your Office in tracing it. A list of all confiscations over the past seven years, for a start ...' 

'Yes, certainly,' said Mr Weasley. 

As Ormesby turned to go, Mrs Weasley spoke up. 'We were hoping that Harry could come and stay with us once you'd finished questioning him.' 

'No, I don't think so,' said Ormesby. 'He'll be remaining in protective custody until the wizards behind this are apprehended.' 

The Weasleys had brought Christmas presents for Harry, including a box of Chocolate Frogs from Ron, a bag of assorted Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes from Fred and George, a wreath of mistletoe from Ginny, a fifth hand-knitted jumper from Mrs Weasley and a large and fancy Christmas cake. After watching Harry open them, Mr Weasley returned to his office and Mrs Weasley took the rest of the family back to the Burrow, except for Ron, Fred and George, who were staying to keep Harry company. 

As soon as his parents had left, Ron rounded on Harry. 'What did you think you were playing at, sleeping rough in the dead of winter? You could have died! Don't you think we've got enough to worry about, with Percy in Azkaban and all?' 

'Ron, we need a word with you,' said Fred. 

He and George seized Ron by the arms and hustled him out of the room. When they came back, Ron seemed very much subdued. 

'Look, I'm sorry I shouted at you,' he said to Harry. 'Have some cake, it'll make you feel better.' 

'Did you tell him?' Harry muttered to George as Ron was slicing the cake. 

'That you'd tried to top yourself because you couldn't patch things up with your relatives?' George muttered back. 'Yeah.' 

Harry was surprised that Ron would believe this story, being well aware of how little Harry cared for the Dursleys. Harry's close brush with death must have severely shaken him. Harry felt a surge of guilt for the additional distress he'd caused the Weasleys. He should have gone directly to number four after burning the Cleansweeps; it had been stupid to stop for a rest in such icy weather. He was lucky he really hadn't died. 

Harry noticed Ron staring at him anxiously, and forced a cheerful expression onto his face. 

'So -- what's all this about a museum robbery?' he said brightly. 

'Someone broke into the Department of Magical Antiquities at the British Museum,' said Fred. 'Got caught by a Tangler Charm and blasted their way out. Made a huge racket and set off the Muggle alarms --' 

'Happened right as our party was winding down,' said George. 'The Ministry had to send every wizard they'd got, to conceal the damage and put Memory Charms on all the Muggles who were turning up. Only as it was Christmas Eve, practically no one was on duty. It would have been a real catastrophe --' 

'Worst breach of Clause 13 since the Statute of Secrecy was passed, Dad reckons,' Ron put in. 

'-- except the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol had a squad on hand they'd been rounding up to send to Azkaban,' said Fred. 'The alarms there had gone off about an hour earlier, but only damage detectors, no intruder alerts. Nobody realised it was an attack -- they thought the fortress had been struck by lightning or something.' 

'As they didn't think the situation at Azkaban was all that urgent, they were waiting for a few more Hit Wizards to show up,' said George. 'Then, of course, all available Ministry members had to be diverted to the museum. It was Christmas morning before they got things under control there and could send someone out to Azkaban to investigate.' 

'Yes, what about Azkaban?' said Harry. 'Your dad said something was up with the Dementors?' 

'The Dementors have gone mad,' said Fred. 'Attacked the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol immediately they landed. The first squad of Hit Wizards had to fly back to London and fetch more people for a full-scale assault. They pulled several prisoners from the outer cells and captured a Dementor for questioning, but the prisoners couldn't tell them much and the Dementor refused to cooperate.' 

'Not that they would've got much out of it in any case,' said George reassuringly. 'Dementors can't see. They can identify people they've encountered before by their auras , but Dementor testimony isn't considered reliable. They'll say whatever they think will get them more prisoners.' 

'Why aren't the Dementors cooperating with the Ministry, though?' said Harry. 'D'you reckon they've all joined up with Voldemort?' 

There was a sharp hiss of indrawn breath from the guard at the door. 

'Dunno,' said Fred. 'The Ministry's not sure if the museum was a distraction for Azkaban, or Azkaban was a distraction for the museum. They're still cataloguing to see what was stolen and what was just smashed.' 

'Then there's you,' said George. 'Somebody sent an anonymous owl yesterday afternoon telling the Ministry to check your house. Sargent and White learnt from your aunt and uncle that you were missing. Sargent's been specially trained to handle Muggles -- she went house-to-house while White searched the neighbourhood. White noticed a funny-looking mound of snow, stepped in for a closer look and tripped right over you.' 

'An anonymous owl!' said Harry, sitting up in astonishment. 'But -- I don't understand. Who could've sent it?' 

'Fudge reckons it was the killer,' said Fred. 'Wanted to be certain the body turned up in time for the Boxing Day _Prophet_. "Harry Potter Found Dead on Christmas Day" -- he thinks it's all a plot to get him thrown out of office.' 

'But there wasn't any killer,' said Harry. 

He was sure there hadn't been ... but then who had sent that owl? 

**— to be continued —**

* * *

**Author's Note:** The tale of what happened between Snape, Ormesby, Sargent and the rest of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol is told in "An Unwelcome Visitor". A link to this story can be found on my Author Page, along with a suggested reading order for all the other fics in the series. Thank you to all the people who've read and reviewed them. ETA for the next chapter is May 19. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	5. Christmas in the Ministry

  
  


**— chapter five —**

**CHRISTMAS IN THE MINISTRY**

  
Ormesby was apparently serious about having Harry stay at the Ministry for the rest of the holidays. When a fresh Hit Witch came to relieve the guard at Harry's door that night, his trunk from the Dursleys was floating behind her. Before the old guard departed, he conjured up a softer mattress and extra pillows for the camp bed and taught Harry a charm to transform the last sink in the toilet down the hall into a shower. 

Next day Ron, Fred and George came back to visit. Fred and George went off to talk to some friends who had left Hogwarts and gone to work for the Ministry. Ron made a determined effort to keep Harry's spirits up, discussing the Quidditch scores from the _Daily Prophet_ and letting Harry very nearly beat him at wizard chess. In the afternoon, a Ministry witch took the pair of them on a tour of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

It would be quite easy to get lost in the Ministry of Magic, Harry thought. The building contained as many winding corridors and narrow staircases as Hogwarts, but no statues or paintings to act as landmarks. His sole means of orienting himself was by peering into the offices, many of which were well worth a second look. 

There was one whose walls and ceiling were upholstered in maroon velvet, another with a pond and a live orange tree growing out of an earthen floor, and a third in which half-a-dozen pure white, floppy-eared dogs were lounging on silk cushions. Mr Weasley's office reminded Harry of The Burrow: shelves of Muggle objects crammed together willy-nilly and towering stacks of parchment that must have been held up by magic. Perkins the warlock's office could have been a room in Mrs Figg's house, right down to the boiled cabbage smell and profusion of cat photos. 

In the Muggle Disguise Room, Harry was allowed to pick out a battered brown leather flying jacket only a size too large for him as a Christmas present from the Ministry. He was beginning to think spending his holidays there might not be so bad ... until he and Ron returned to the spare office. 

Fred and George were waiting for them. 

'Good news!' said Fred, with an air of rather strained cheer. 'They're letting Percy out of Azkaban!' 

'The Ministry's given up on getting the Dementors under control again any time soon,' said George. 'They've decided to remove the short term prisoners, and Percy's at the top of the list!' 

'Yes!' said Ron ecstatically. 'Percy's coming home!' 

Harry forced himself to smile. 

'That's great, Ron,' he said. 'Really great.' 

*

And it _would_ have been great, Harry thought that evening as he lay awake brooding, if Percy had still been in Azkaban. How long would it take the Ministry to realise he'd escaped, if the Dementors weren't speaking to them? When they did, they'd be taking a close look at what the Weasleys had been doing the night the fortress was attacked -- the Weasleys and all their friends as well. There were loads of witnesses that Fred and George had been at the Christmas party, but the Ministry only had Harry's word for it that he was dead at the time. And what of Percy himself? Fred and George couldn't have counted on this kind of uproar whilst making their plans for spiriting him off afterwards ... an uproar for which Harry was partly responsible ... 

Harry was too anxious to enjoy next morning's tour of the Department of Magical Catastrophes. Ron, however, chattered away happily. 

'Mum started cleaning Percy's room at five o'clock this morning ... hey, maybe you can have dinner with us, I bet she cooks something really good ... course, we're not sure they'll let Percy come back to The Burrow straight away, but anywhere's better than Azkaban, eh?' 

This merely gave Harry one more thing to fret over. What would the Weasleys make of Percy's disappearance? They were expecting him to be rescued from Azkaban, by evening at the very latest. It would be a nasty shock for them when they learnt he hadn't been. 

'Have they brought Percy in yet?' Ron asked his father hopefully when he and Harry met Mr Weasley for lunch in the Ministry canteen. 

'No, not yet,' said Mr Weasley. Perhaps it was just Harry's imagination, but he seemed to sound slightly uncomfortable. 

That afternoon, Harry and Ron were shown around the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Ron kept stopping to poke his head into fires to see if his father had had any news of Percy. After the dozenth time, Mr Weasley evidently became fed up with this. 

'He said to quit badgering him, he'd shoot me an arrow if he heard anything,' said Ron irritably (Ministry members used magical silver arrows to send each other messages inside the building). 'But how will it catch up with us if we keep moving about? Let's go back to your room.' 

So they cut short their tour and returned to the spare office, where Ron was so distracted watching out for his father's arrow that Harry almost actually did win one of their chess matches. A couple of hours later, Mr Weasley turned up in person. His face was grave. 

'The last of the Hit Wizards have just flown in from Azkaban,' he said. 'They weren't able to bring Percy back today. There was -- considerable difficulty with the Dementors; they were extremely angry at having so many prisoners taken from them. But the Ministry will be sending out another squad first thing tomorrow. We must think positively ... and not lose hope ...' 

It was clear, however, that Mr Weasley was having some trouble following his own advice, and Ron showed up next morning radiating such palpable misery that it made his father seem nothing short of buoyant in comparison. 

'Percy wasn't in his cell,' he told Harry in a low voice. 'We overheard Dad telling Mum. They're afraid the Dementors may have moved him. The Ministry's going to try and search for him, but they'll have a real job of it with the Dementors on a rampage ...' 

Ron refused to go on any tours that day, even when the witch guide offered to take them round to the Department of Magical Games and Sports and introduce them to Gwenog Jones. Harry desperately wanted to tell Ron the truth about Percy but didn't dare, as there was a Hit Wizard sitting right outside the door. 

The best he could do was suggest diffidently, 'He might've got away while the fortress was being attacked ...' 

'That's what Fred and George said,' Ron replied gloomily. 'But can you imagine Percy breaking out of prison? I mean, he's not exactly Sirius Black.' 

Hearing Sirius' name, the guard sat up straighter. 

At half past three, Fred and George, who had been off as usual collecting gossip, came into the office looking grim. 

'They've brought in the last batch of prisoners from Azkaban,' said George. 'Everyone's been accounted for except Percy.' 

'The Hit Wizards say some of the walls were blasted apart on the way to his cell,' said Fred. 'That git Lucius Malfoy is claiming this proves Percy killed Watchett -- that he was part of a conspiracy against the Ministry and his accomplices helped him escape.' 

'Fred and I still reckon Percy managed to escape when the Dementors were fighting the attackers,' said George. 'Percy can pick locks, we taught him how.' 

Ron looked askance at this and Harry didn't blame him. He could hardly see boring, rule-following Percy allowing Fred and George to teach him any such thing. It was unlikely that anyone else who knew the Weasley family would give the notion much credence, either. 

'The Ministry doesn't think any of you --' Harry began. 

'Of course not,' said Fred. 'Everyone knows we were at the Christmas party all night.' 

*

That evening, Harry ate his dinner at the desk in the spare office as usual. He had just set down his goblet after a sip of pumpkin juice when a strange feeling came over him. An odd creeping numbness was spreading upwards from his stomach. His brain was growing sluggish and fogged, his thoughts grinding slowly to a halt. 

As he gazed blankly at his plate, the Hit Wizard who was guarding him said, 'Potter? Can you hear me?' 

'Yes,' Harry heard his own voice say. His scar throbbed dully on his forehead. 

The guard called down the corridor, 'Sir? You can come in now. He's under.' 

A few moments later, Ormesby walked through the door, followed by Cornelius Fudge, Lichfield the mediwizard, a number of other Ministry members Harry didn't recognise -- and Lucius Malfoy. 

Although his body remained paralysed, the pain in Harry's scar was prodding him back to full consciousness. This was not entirely to the good, as it left him free to worry about what was happening to him. Plainly he had been slipped some sort of potion, but _what_ sort, and why? And what was Mr Malfoy doing here? 

Ormesby placed a quill, a roll of parchment and a bottle of ink on the desk in front of Harry. The quill sprang up, dipped itself in the ink bottle and stood poised to write. 

'The Veritaserum interrogation of Harry James Potter in the matter of the Christmas Eve incidents of 1995 will now commence,' said Ormesby. 

_Veritaserum._

A thrill of horror shot through Harry. He couldn't tell them about Percy, he had to fight the potion ... but Professor Snape's voice was echoing inside his head. _It is Veritaserum -- a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear ..._ Was there any way he could stop himself? 

Harry drew up every scrap of will he possessed, trying to resist the potion as he did the Imperius Curse. But the Veritaserum was in his blood, coursing through his veins -- its effects were not so easily thrown off. 

Harry was so engrossed in his struggle that he almost didn't hear Ormesby say, 'Tell us what happened to you on Christmas Eve.' 

As Harry opened his mouth, his scar burnt more fiercely yet. The pain seemed to diminish his compulsion to speak and he realised that he could indeed fight this. It was harder than lying to Voldemort whilst transformed into a snake, but Harry forced himself to repeat the story he'd previously given. 

Ormesby appeared disappointed but not terribly surprised. 'So you had nothing to do with the break-in at the British Museum on that same night?' 

'No,' said Harry, without effort as he was now telling the truth. 

'Do you have any information regarding that incident which might be of interest to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol?' 

Mechanically Harry started to recite everything Fred and George had told him about the museum robbery. 

'Stop,' said Ormesby. Harry fell silent. 'I mean, do you know who was behind it?' 

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'It was Voldemort.' 

Fudge blanched. A spasm of terror flitted over Lucius Malfoy's face. Harry was as startled at what he'd said as either of them. He hadn't given much thought to who was responsible for the museum robbery, more or less assuming it to be the work of ordinary wizarding burglars. Nor had he been intentionally lying: the words had just popped out of his mouth. 

'Was it?' said Ormesby keenly. 'How do you know?' 

The true answer to that question was that Harry didn't know how he knew, but he could see that this would sound a trifle peculiar to his interrogators. 

Instead he replied, 'Who else could it have been?' 

Ormesby looked disgusted. 'But you have no evidence beyond your own suspicions?' 

'No,' said Harry. 

Before Ormesby had a chance to ask anything more, Lucius Malfoy stepped forward and said, 'It was you who attacked Azkaban, you and Dumbledore!' 

'No, it wasn't,' said Harry. He noticed it was rather less difficult to tell a partial lie than a whole one. 

'Your Patronus is a reindeer!' said Mr Malfoy furiously. 

'No, it isn't,' said Harry, which was technically true. 

Lucius Malfoy rounded on Ormesby. 'He's lying, it's not working, you didn't give him enough --' 

'Kindly let _me_ handle this interrogation, Mr Malfoy,' said Ormesby coldly. 'Were you in any way involved with the attack on Azkaban?' he asked Harry. 

'No,' said Harry. 

'Was Albus Dumbledore in any way involved with the attack on Azkaban?' 

'No,' said Harry. 

'Were any members of the Weasley family?' 

'No,' said Harry. 

'To your knowledge or belief, was any other specific person involved with this attack?' 

'No,' said Harry. 

'Are you in fact able to cast the Patronus Charm?' 

'Yes,' said Harry. 

It would be dangerous to lie about this; too many people knew the truth. 

Ormesby raised his eyebrows. 'What form does your Patronus take?' 

'It's a Scottish stag,' said Harry. 

'Is it?' said Ormesby. 'Well, you were nearly right, Lucius. But ungulate Patroni aren't especially uncommon and he has confirmed under Veritaserum that he did not take part in the attack. Unless any of you have further questions, this interview is over.' 

There was a general shaking of heads. Even Mr Malfoy, although exceedingly disgruntled by the look of him, had nothing more to say. Led by Fudge, the Ministry wizards filed out, leaving only Lichfield and the guard. Harry should have been relieved that the interrogation was finished, but his scar was hurting him as badly as ever. Did that mean Voldemort was nearby? If the Dark Lord came after him, Harry was in no condition to get away. His mind was starting to drift again and he could scarcely feel his arms and legs. 

Lichfield used his wand to float Harry to the bed. He poured a few drops of potion into Harry's mouth and closed Harry's eyes with his hand. Harry began to feel extremely drowsy. But he couldn't let himself fall asleep ... not when Voldemort was lurking about ... 

Whatever had protected Harry from the Veritaserum did no good against the potion Lichfield had given him. The room swirled away from him as he sank into darkness. 

Harry dreamed that Voldemort stood by his bed and spoke to him in a cold, hissing voice. 'One of our people was questioned tonight ... I felt it through the Dark Mark ...' Then, a little later, 'You have done well, my newest Death Eater ... drink the bitter wine of Slytherin ...' 

It was very bitter wine indeed. It scorched Harry's throat and burnt in his stomach, and the taste of it remained on his tongue until morning, when he had forgotten the rest of his dream. 

*

It was noon before Harry finally woke, tired, muzzy-headed and rather surprised that he was still alive. His scar felt perfectly normal, which meant Voldemort had gone -- for now. So, apparently, had everyone else. There was no longer a guard at the door and Ron, Fred and George didn't seem to have stopped by to see him that day. 

Harry picked up his wand, glanced nervously up and down the passage and set off for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Mr Weasley was at his desk reading a piece of parchment, his brow furrowed. He looked up as Harry walked in. 

'Voldemort was here last night,' Harry said in a hushed voice. 

Mr Weasley's hands clenched, crumpling the edges of the parchment. 'How do you know?' 

'My scar,' said Harry. 

He described how he had been given Veritaserum and questioned about Azkaban and the museum robbery. He didn't mention the potion not working, merely that his scar had started to hurt when the Minister and his party entered the room. 

'D'you reckon one of them was Voldemort using Polyjuice Potion? Mr Malfoy kept trying to get me to say Dumbledore attacked Azkaban ... except if Voldemort was there, I don't understand why he didn't finish me off while I was sleeping.' 

Mr Weasley looked as tense as Harry had ever seen him. 

'The Ministry has spells and enchantments that ought to prevent that kind of thing, but the Dark Lord has got round so many of our magical protections ... Harry, I wish I could take you away from here, but the Minister won't allow it. Dumbledore's been trying to get you sent back to Hogwarts since he heard about the attack, but Ormesby says he's a suspect and now it appears I am too.' 

Mr Weasley shook his head. 'Using Veritaserum to interrogate a child! It wouldn't surprise me if that's what caused the pain in your scar. Nasty stuff at the best of times and combined with an old head injury ... I'll owl Dumbledore, perhaps he'll be able to think of something. For today, I want you to stay in my office. Even if You-Know-Who can't get in here, it's quite likely there's a traitor in the Ministry. Someone murdered Watchett, after all, and evidence is pointing to Azkaban and the museum being inside jobs as well.' 

_A traitor in the Ministry._ Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. Waking up to find himself in the middle of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol's investigation had driven his last conversation with Percy clear from his mind. Now it all came rushing back to him. 

He had to warn Mr Weasley about Riversedge ... but how could he, inside the Ministry of Magic? If Harry told Mr Weasley that Riversedge was the traitor, he'd have to explain how he knew. He'd have to admit that Percy had killed Watchett and that Harry, Fred and George had broken him out of Azkaban. Someone might overhear them, Mr Weasley's office might be bugged -- he'd said the Ministry suspected him -- and Mr Weasley had no scar to protect him from Veritaserum. 

'Harry ... Harry, are you all right?' Mr Weasley was saying anxiously. 'Here, sit down ... are you ill? Shall I arrow Lichfield?' 

'No, I'm fine,' said Harry weakly. 'I -- haven't had breakfast yet, that's all.' 

Mr Weasley accompanied Harry to the Ministry canteen and sat at his table while he ate. All through the meal, Harry racked his brains for a way of safely passing on his information but could think of nothing that had much chance of success. If only he had his Invisibility Cloak ... but Ormesby had taken it, 'for safekeeping'. 

When they got back to the office, Mr Weasley said, 'Why don't you give me a hand with these reports, Harry? They need sorting by date -- I've been making that list of confiscations Ormesby asked for. The ones from 1989 and afterwards you can put on my desk. Everything else goes in those three crates: eighties, seventies and sixties or earlier.' 

Harry began ploughing through the nearest ceiling-high stack of parchment. Worried though he was, as he read the reports Harry had to laugh, imagining some of the hexed Muggle artefacts they described falling into the hands of the Dursleys. When the witch who had taken him on his earlier tours dropped by to ask if he'd like to see the Department of Magical Transportation, Harry told her 'no thanks'. 

Halfway through his second stack, Harry came across a roll of parchment that was crisper and less dusty than the others. What really caught his eye, however, was the first line: 

_ ORMESBY: Now, Mr Lupin -- _

FUDGE: I say, shouldn't he be chained down? 

ORMESBY: He's not under arrest yet, Minister. 

When he finished reading it, Harry said to Mr Weasley in amazement, 'Fudge thought Professor Lupin tried to eat me?' 

'What?' said Mr Weasley distractedly. He'd been paying little attention to the reports Harry gave him, spending most of his time staring out the door and fingering his wand. 

'Last summer when I disappeared -- here, look.' 

Harry passed him the parchment. Mr Weasley ran his eyes over it. 

'Where did you get this?' he said sharply. 

'It was in your stack of reports,' said Harry. 

Mr Weasley frowned, strode over to the fire and stuck his head into the flames. Harry heard him speaking as though from a great distance. 

'... in with my reports ... Harry found it ... one of your people must have laid it down and forgotten about it ...' 

Mr Weasley pulled his head out, put the hand with the report in, and removed it again, empty. 

'Honestly, no wonder they're having trouble with leaks in Magical Law Enforcement, if that's the care they take with their paperwork,' he muttered as he returned to his desk. 

In the evening, Mr Weasley escorted Harry to the spare office. The guard was back; Mr Weasley conjured up a chair and sat down beside him. The pair of them were talking quietly to one another as Harry fell asleep, but when he woke next morning, he was alone again. 

Harry went to the canteen for breakfast. Even though it was Sunday, there seemed to be as many people in the corridors as ever. After finishing his meal, he made for Mr Weasley's office. Mr Weasley wasn't there but two other Ministry members were. A cross-looking old woman sat at the desk, pursing her lips over one of Mr Weasley's reports. A young man with a tangle of curly hair and a fixed, slightly mad smile stood by the door. 

Harry stopped short. 

'Where's Mr Weasley?' he said. 

The old witch ignored Harry, but the wizard at the threshold gave him an even wider grin. 

'Precisely the thing we were wondering ourselves!' he said, practically bouncing on his heels. 'Arthur was supposed to meet us here half an hour ago. He left a note saying he'd gone to have a word with Agnes Hammersmith in Magical Creatures. Why don't you run down there and see what's taking him?' 

So off Harry went. It was a while before he managed to locate the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It hadn't been one of the departments he'd visited previously and the directions the wizard gave him turned out to be completely wrong. When he finally got there, nobody could tell him where Agnes Hammersmith's office was. In fact, most of them were quite certain there was no Agnes Hammersmith in the department, nor did they know of anyone by that name anywhere else in the Ministry. 

After much consultation, Harry learnt that there was an Agnes Armstrong in Magical Games and Sports, and an Agnes Footit and a wizard named Ogma Hamper in Magical Transportation. Thinking to kill two birds with one stone, he set off for the latter department, where he found Agnes Footit (Ogma Hamper was out checking the anti-Apparition spells around Azkaban) but no Agnes Hammersmith and no Arthur Weasley. 

At last Harry had had enough. During his search he had been continually held up by people wanting to shake his hand, hear what had happened to him on Christmas Eve or merely stare at his scar, none of whom had been of any assistance in finding Mr Weasley. It was nearly lunchtime. Wherever he had gone, Mr Weasley was undoubtedly back at his office by now. Harry decided to head in that direction himself. 

As he trudged down the long main corridor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, an unpleasantly familiar voice from the office ahead froze Harry in his tracks. 

'... as for Azkaban, the only way we'll be able to salvage _that_ situation is by proving Dumbledore was behind it. Obviously he took the precaution of putting a Memory Charm on Potter. If I can convince Fudge -- or better yet, Ormesby --' 

It was Lucius Malfoy. Harry stood very still, straining to hear what was being said. 

'What about the rest of the stuff?' a second voice interrupted. 'Anything you want before I tip it in the Thames?' 

There was a pause, then -- 

'You fool, you should have got rid of those things days ago,' hissed Mr Malfoy. 'If Magical Law Enforcement comes nosing around ...' 

'Why would they do that?' said the other voice. 'Even Ormesby doesn't make a habit of searching his own men's flats for no reason.' 

'It seems I've been spending half my life covering up for your mistakes lately,' said Mr Malfoy in a deadly quiet tone. 'If you're caught this time, don't expect any help from me.' 

'If I'm caught, I'll take you down with me,' said the other wizard, now sounding quite menacing. 

'Don't you threaten me, Riversedge,' spat Mr Malfoy. 

Riversedge! For an instant Harry was dumbstruck. Then, like a lamp being lit inside his brain, he realised. He now had a way to warn Mr Weasley about the traitor at the Ministry: simply tell him what he'd just overheard. 

Harry started off at a dead run -- straight into the tall wizard who stepped suddenly out of a side passage ... 

**— to be continued —**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Lupin was interrogated by Ormesby and Fudge in "The Butterflies"; Harry lied to Voldemort whilst transformed into a snake in "The Serpent of Lord Voldemort". Links to these fics can be found on my Author Page, along with a suggested reading order for all the other stories in the series. Thank you to all the people who've read/reviewed. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	6. Christmas at The Burrow

  
  


**— chapter six —**

**CHRISTMAS AT THE BURROW**

  
'What happened?' said the wizard sharply. 'Did someone hex you?' 

It was Lamplough, the Hit Wizard who'd guarded Harry his first night in the spare office. Harry saw that Lamplough's wand was drawn. 

'No, I ... was looking for Mr Weasley. I heard -- I thought --' 

Lamplough frowned. He took Harry by the chin, tilted his head back and peered into his eyes. 

'What's up, Lamplough?' said a voice behind Harry, the same voice that seconds earlier had been conversing with Lucius Malfoy. 

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Mr Malfoy and a sharp-featured wizard who must have been Riversedge were walking towards him and Lamplough. When Mr Malfoy spotted Harry, his eyes narrowed. 

Before Lamplough could answer, Harry said brightly, 'I thought I recognised your voice! Why didn't you tell me you were a wizard? I could've given you Sickles for the Knight Bus.' 

'What?' said Riversedge. 

'That's the man I met on Christmas Eve,' Harry said to Lamplough. 'You see, I told you it wasn't a Dark wizard. It was him!' 

It was difficult to say who looked more appalled at this, Riversedge or Lucius Malfoy. In one quick movement, Lamplough thrust Harry into the passage he'd come out of and levelled his wand at the pair of them. Riversedge seized Mr Malfoy by the back of his robes and threw him bodily at Lamplough, knocking them both to the floor. He yanked out his own wand and started muttering a spell, which Harry identified at once as the Curse of the Slithering Death. 

Wand in hand, Harry stepped out of the side passage and launched into the counter-curse, as though he was back in the Dark Arts classroom practising with Professor Millarca. The two incantations wound simultaneously to an end. As Harry had correctly performed the counter, nothing happened. Riversedge stared at him, flabbergasted, then lifted his wand again. 

'_Expelli-_' Harry began. 

'STUPEFY!' bellowed Lucius Malfoy. 

A blinding flash of crimson light filled the corridor, followed by a dull thump. When Harry's eyes cleared, he saw Riversedge lying in a crumpled heap at the base of the wall, which he had hit with such force that the oak panelling had cracked. Lamplough went cautiously over to examine him. 

After a couple of minutes, he straightened up and said quietly to Mr Malfoy, 'You've killed him.' 

'That was the Curse of the Crawling Death he was casting!' said Mr Malfoy. His face was white and Harry had the impression that the fear in his voice was not entirely feigned. 'If he'd managed to finish --' 

'What do you mean, the Curse of the Crawling Death?' said Lamplough suspiciously. 

'I was at Doyle's Rift,' said Mr Malfoy. 'Under Imperius, of course, but I will never forget ... when I heard him I couldn't believe it ... I -- lost control ...' 

Lucius Malfoy let his wand drop and put his hands over his face. None of what he'd said meant a thing to Harry, but Lamplough's expression went grim. He sent a silver arrow shooting up the corridor, no doubt summoning reinforcements. 

Harry gazed down at Riversedge's body, a sick feeling in his stomach. He had hoped that identifying Riversedge as the man he'd spoken with might lead to an investigation, and the truth of Riversedge's involvement with Voldemort would be discovered. He hadn't intended for him to die ... 

'Harry, what's happened?' said an anxious voice. 

Harry raised his head. Mr Weasley was at his side. 

'I was looking for you,' Harry said, 'but I couldn't find Agnes Hammersmith's office.' 

'Agnes who?' said Mr Weasley. 

'Agnes Hammersmith,' said Harry. 'Those wizards you were supposed to be meeting with said you'd gone to see her.' 

'Those wizards I -- Harry, what are you talking about?' 

Before Harry could explain further, he and Mr Weasley were distracted by Lamplough, who was speaking animatedly to Ormesby. 

'... noticed him acting funny right after he passed Riversedge's door. Stood still for nearly five minutes as if he was in a trance, then suddenly started running ... There was a mad look in his eye -- I reckoned I'd better stop him before he did himself harm. That snapped him out of it, but he didn't seem to remember what he'd been doing. Then Riversedge came along. Potter recognised his voice: Riversedge was the man he'd met on Christmas Eve. When he said that, Riversedge attacked. He tried to cast the Curse of the Crawling Death on us --' 

'The Curse of the Slithering Death,' Harry corrected him, but no one paid any attention -- except for Lucius Malfoy, who shot Harry a swift but genuinely terrified look. 

Mr Weasley looked at Riversedge's body, then back at Ormesby, whose lips were curved in a satisfied smile. 

'I see,' said Mr Weasley coldly. 'I trust there will be no objections now to Harry coming home with me?' 

'Once we've taken his statement,' said Ormesby. 

A Hit Wizard led Harry off to a side room, where he gave his version of recent events as a charmed quill took down his words. 

'... Mr Malfoy called it the Crawling Death. It's the one that goes _Corpus Colubrifer_ --' 

'Don't say it!' yelped the Hit Wizard, flinging himself across the table to press a hand over Harry's mouth. 

'It wouldn't have worked without a wand,' Harry pointed out. 

'Yes, yes,' said the wizard edgily. 'Sign this, please.' 

Mr Weasley was waiting outside. He went with Harry to the spare office to collect his things. They headed back to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Mr Weasley floating the trunk along the corridors whilst Harry carried the bottle with the holly sprigs, which had begun putting out tiny rootlets. 

Mr Weasley kept his Floo powder in a battered Muggle drinks can. He shook out a handful and tossed it into the fire; moments later, Harry emerged gratefully into the welcoming warmth of the Weasleys' kitchen. Mrs Weasley was slumped disconsolately at the scrubbed wooden table as the last of the washing-up from lunch finished itself in the sink. When she caught sight of Harry, she leapt up with a shriek. 

'Harry -- what --?' 

Mr Weasley stepped out of the fireplace with the trunk. 

'Molly, look after Harry,' he said. 'Murdock Riversedge was just killed by Magical Law Enforcement trying to murder him. It was Riversedge who attacked him on Christmas Eve, Ormesby's been using as Harry as bait flush him out. I've got to get back to the Ministry ...' 

Mr Weasley ducked into the fireplace and disappeared. 

'Murdock Riversedge tried to murder you?' said an astonished voice. 

Fred and George, drawn by their mother's cry, had come hurrying down to the kitchen. 

'I -- yeah,' said Harry, 'I was looking for your dad --' 

Without further ado, Fred nipped into the fireplace after Mr Weasley, yelling, 'The Ministry of Magic!' 

'Oh, Harry,' said Mrs Weasley, steering him to a chair. 'Sit down, you look awful.' 

George joined his mother at the kitchen table, where he made a great show of taking Harry's pulse and feeling his forehead. 

'He does look awful,' George opined. 'Bring him up to our room, he can have Fred's bed.' 

George's tight grip on Harry's arm told him it would be best to go along with this suggestion. Once Harry was tucked up in bed, Mrs Weasley went downstairs again, promising to make him a mug of hot, sweet tea. 

'Why'd Fred go rushing off?' Harry asked George when she was out of earshot. 

'Riversedge was the witness who saw Percy leaving the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the night Watchett was killed,' said George. 'He must've been lying because he murdered Watchett himself, we should've thought of that sooner. If we can convince the Ministry, the charges will be dropped and Percy can come home. Fred's gone to help Dad. He's listening to us, by the way -- he and I used the Gemini Charm to swap the hearing in our left ears so we could stay in contact. We may need you to provide a bit of supporting evidence if Fudge decides to be stubborn --' 

Next second, the door flew open and Ron came bursting in. 

'I thought I heard your voice,' he said accusingly to Harry. 'What're you doing here, why didn't you come up and see me --' 

'Ron, shut up, or I'll put a silencing spell on you,' George said through gritted teeth. 

'Come here, I'll tell you what happened,' said Harry hastily. 

Ron sat on the bed and Harry explained the situation in a hurried whisper. They waited in tense silence as George kept them updated on what was transpiring at the Ministry. 

'Right, Dad and Fred're waiting to talk to Cornelius Fudge ... Ormesby's there as well ... Dad wants them to hunt down Riversedge's accomplices, he thinks they may know what's become of Percy ... now Fred's asking about Riversedge and the murder charge ... Fudge's waffling as usual, but I expect he'll come round ...' 

At last George gave a huge sigh of relief. 

'The charges are being dropped. They're coming back to The Burrow to tell Mum.' He hesitated, then said, 'Mind, Fudge is only doing it to humour us. Ormesby says Percy's probably dead -- the wizards who attacked Azkaban killed him to stop the investigation. Dad believes it, too, he's really upset.' 

Ron looked stricken. 'They couldn't find Percy in Azkaban ... Harry, you don't think --' 

'Of course not,' said Harry firmly. 

George strode out the room and clattered down the staircase. Ron and Harry scrambled after him. In the kitchen, Mrs Weasley sat crying as Mr Weasley held her hands. Ginny stood by, wearing an extremely miserable expression. Fred hovered over the pair of them, looking both distressed and put out. 

'He could have got away, George and I'll start looking for him right now --' 

'Fred, as much as I'd like to believe that, I've seen the state of the prisoners in Azkaban,' said Mr Weasley. 'If those Dark wizards got to Percy's cell, he'd be a sitting duck. The best we can hope for is that they were driven off by the Dementors and Percy was moved to a different location because of it. It may be some time before we know for certain -- a full-scale search of Azkaban won't be possible until the Dementors have calmed down -- and if he's dead, it's not likely his body will ever be found.' 

'It's not knowing that's the worst,' said Mrs Weasley emptily. 'I could bear it if Percy was dead, if only I _knew_.' 

George gave Fred an agonised look. Fred shook his head, looking alarmed. George took a deep breath. 

'Mum ...' he said. 

Harry could see Fred reaching for his wand. 

'Why don't you check your clock?' he said. 

All the Weasleys wheeled about to stare at Harry. 

'Your clock with the hands -- if it shows he's in prison, you'll know the Dementors moved him. If it shows he's travelling or something, maybe he did get away during the attack.' 

Mr and Mrs Weasley moved as one for the cellar stairs, Harry and the young Weasleys close behind them. The clock was in a far corner facing the wall. Mrs Weasley drew her wand, spun the clock around and said, '_Lumos_.' 

The hand with Percy's name on it was pointing to 'in hiding'. 

Ron let out a great whoop, seized Ginny about the waist and swung her around as she squealed with delight. Mrs Weasley was crying again, this time with happiness. Mr Weasley hugged her tightly. George and Harry exchanged relieved grins. 

'I knew it!' said Fred triumphantly. 'Don't worry, Mum, George and I'll find him! We know loads of places Percy might go if he was on the run.' 

'You'll do nothing of the sort,' said Mr Weasley sternly. 'Riversedge had accomplices, if Percy escaped they'll be looking for him. The last thing we need is the two of you blundering into a gang of Dark wizards. It's Magical Law Enforcement's job to find Percy -- until they do, I'm forbidding either one of you to leave The Burrow.' 

'We're seventeen years old, you can't forbid us to do anything,' said Fred angrily. 

Mr Weasley's voice was deadly quiet. 'Perhaps not. But I can ask Ormesby to put you both under house arrest, and I'll do it if I have to.' 

'Dad's right, Fred,' said George suddenly. Fred turned his outraged gaze on his brother, but before he could speak George went on, 'Best it's not us who find Percy, some git like Lucius Malfoy might say we'd been hiding him. We can make a list of places for the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to check. In fact, we should stay inside all day tomorrow, with plenty of _witnesses_.' 

The meaningful tone in which George said 'witnesses' finally got through to Fred. 

'I suppose you're right,' he said grudgingly. 

'That's very sensible of you, boys,' said Mr Weasley in relief. 

They trooped back up the stairs. Mr Weasley returned to the Ministry to tell them that Percy was alive. Mrs Weasley began bustling around the kitchen, looking cheerier than Harry had seen her all Christmas. Harry sank weakly into a chair. At last, at long last, all the Weasleys knew that Percy was OK. Even better, now that he was no longer wanted by the Ministry, Percy could come out of hiding and rejoin his family. 

*

Although next day was New Year's, Mr Weasley left for the Ministry as normal, bringing Charlie (who, to his younger brothers' disgruntlement, was being allowed to take part in the search for Percy) along with him. As soon as they were gone, Fred put on Harry's Invisibility Cloak and slipped out the house. 

Under instructions from Fred and George, Harry stayed in bed all morning, saying he didn't feel well. This provided George with an excuse to dash up and down the staircase every fifteen minutes, checking up on the 'invalid' Harry and changing the letter on his jumper each trip. 

In truth Harry _wasn't_ feeling all that well. He'd had nightmares about Cedric Diggory again, this time mixed up with Riversedge's killing. Ron thought the showdown with Riversedge was the coolest thing he'd ever heard of, and had made Harry describe it in excruciating detail last night before bed. Harry knew he shouldn't waste sympathy on Riversedge after everything he'd put the Weasley's through, but he couldn't help feeling a sickening stab of guilt whenever he recalled Riversedge's dead eyes staring up at him. 

Harry's condition wasn't helped by the Gemini Charm that George had cast to impersonate his brother. George seemed to flicker continually between himself and Fred. Merely looking at him gave Harry a terrible headache. 

'But it's only because you know I'm me,' George told him. 'Anyone else would look at the letter on my jumper and see what they expected to see. Reckon you've got a bit of a fever,' he added loudly for Ron's benefit. 'I'll send Fred up with a damp flannel for your forehead.' 

Fred got back just before lunchtime so that both twins could put on an appearance in the kitchen. 

'Percy and I've worked out his story,' he told Harry in an undertone, 'and he knows how to pick locks _now_. That suspicious bastard Ormesby will probably make him do it ...' 

With Fred's return, George stopped flickering, but this did little to relieve the pounding in Harry's head. Out of bed, Harry felt unaccountably cold. He wore two jumpers down to the kitchen and still couldn't keep from shivering. Mrs Weasley took one look at him and sent him directly back upstairs. 

Harry ended up sleeping in Ron's room for most of the day. When he woke it was dark. Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing in the doorway talking in low voices. 

'... but I'm sure it's just a bout of flu,' Mrs Weasley was saying. 

'No doubt you're right, Molly,' said Mr Weasley, 'but if he's not better in a couple of days, we're taking him to St Mungo's. Honestly, Ormesby should be up on charges of endangering an underage wizard, he was only questioning me about that file to get me away from Harry. Mayfair and Drummond were waiting at my office -- sent him off on a wild goose chase after a witch who didn't exist, hoping whoever attacked him on Christmas Eve would have another go. And when Nigella was showing him and Ron around ... if anything had happened to either one of them, I'd never have forgiven myself ...' 

Harry opened his eyes and reached for the goblet of water on the bedside table. 

'Harry?' said Mrs Weasley. 

'Did you find Percy?' he croaked. 

Mrs Weasley glanced at her husband. 

'No, dear,' she said, 'but the Ministry searched Mr Riversedge's flat. They found some of the things from the British Museum, which means he was involved in the robbery, too. They'll be rounding up his friends for questioning -- perhaps one of them will know something about Percy.' 

*

As dreadful as Harry felt, he was grateful to have fallen ill at The Burrow rather than at number four. Aunt Petunia left tins of soup outside the door of his room when he was sick and forbade him to come out when the rest of the family were around. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, cooked Harry light, nourishing meals -- toast and orange juice for breakfast, fresh chicken broth and pumpkin juice for lunch, weak tea and a coddled egg for dinner -- and dosed him with potions that weren't nearly as horrible as Madam Pomfrey's. 

As a result, Harry was well enough two days later to go sprinting down the staircase with Ron when Mrs Weasley answered a knock at the door and let out a loud scream. Harry and Ron reached the hall to find her with arms flung around Percy, sobbing. An older man stood beside them. He bore a strong resemblance to Percy apart from his hair, which was brown instead of red. This was Mrs Weasley's cousin Andrew -- a Muggle accountant, Ron told Harry in hushed tones. 

George was dispatched to fetch Mr Weasley and Charlie from the Ministry. The rest of them sat round the table to hear Percy's story. 

Late Christmas Eve, Percy had heard a great commotion in the corridors outside his cell. The Dementor that was guarding him went away; once his mind was free of its influence, Percy picked the lock on his door. Following the noise, he caught sight of a pair of wizards in the passage ahead of him. One was supporting the other, who seemed to have been overwhelmed by the Dementors' power. Percy trailed the two of them out the fortress, where several more wizards were fighting a pitched battle with what looked like every Dementor on the island. Spotting an abandoned broomstick, Percy snatched it up and flew off. 

Upon reaching the mainland he had hidden himself, terrified of being sent back to Azkaban, not daring to contact his family. Eventually he got the notion of going to their Muggle cousin for help. As Mr Weasley had spoken with Andrew the previous day to ask if he'd heard from Percy, he was able to tell Percy about Riversedge, and gave him a lift to The Burrow. 

It was a good story, Harry thought. Fred and George had done a sterling job concocting it. But would it satisfy the Ministry? 

Mr Weasley turned up shortly afterwards to bring Percy to the Ministry to give his statement. Fred tagged along; from George's distracted expression Harry could tell he was using the Gemini Charm to listen in. When George began giving Harry odd looks, Harry was afraid something had gone wrong, but the Ministry evidently accepted Percy's tale at face value, for about an hour later he and Fred returned to The Burrow. 

As Fred clambered out of the fireplace, he too gave Harry a very strange look before hurrying up the staircase with George. Mrs Weasley went back to fussing over Percy; Harry and Ron followed Fred and George to their room. 

'What happened?' said Harry. 'The Ministry believed Percy, didn't they?' 

'Oh ... yeah,' said Fred. 'Dad thinks Lucius Malfoy might still try to make some trouble, but --' 

'He'd better not!' said Harry fiercely. 'If he tries anything, you tell him I'll tell the Ministry that he hexed Riversedge _after_ I'd done the counter-curse.' 

'What are you talking about?' said Fred. 

'Mr Malfoy said he hexed Riversedge to stop him finishing that Crawling Death Curse,' said Harry, 'but he'd already finished it. I worked the counter, that's why it didn't do anything. I bet he killed Riversedge on purpose to shut him up. I heard them talking in Riversedge's office -- Riversedge said he'd take Lucius Malfoy down with him if he was caught.' 

The three Weasleys gaped at Harry. 

'Why didn't you say something before?' said George in astonishment. 

'Didn't think of it,' shrugged Harry. 'And I don't expect anyone would've believed me if I had done. I mean, with all those donations to good causes Mr Malfoy's made --' 

'Like Fudge's election fund,' muttered Ron. 

'Exactly,' said Harry. 

'At any rate, Ormesby believed Percy,' said Fred. 'Fudge didn't, exactly, but he thought Percy was hallucinating, not lying. Ormesby wanted a description of the attackers. As they were wearing masks, Percy couldn't tell him much, but he did get a good view of two of the Patronuses. With the ones the prisoners saw, Ormesby reckoned there had to be at least four or five wizards involved -- said it would've been a mad thing to try with any less than seven.' 

'Fudge didn't like that, he wants to close the case,' said George, 'and a couple of Riversedge's friends did a bunk before they could be interrogated. Fudge is claiming it was them who attacked Azkaban -- Percy and the other prisoners had been around the Dementors so long it made them see things that weren't there. At first he tried to say that the attackers could have conjured up more than one Patronus apiece. But Ormesby said --' 

Here Fred and George gave Harry their most peculiar looks yet. 

'-- Ormesby said that maybe Dumbledore could cast two Patronus Charms at once without dropping dead from magic loss, but he doubted anybody else could -- and not even Merlin himself could have managed three.' 

Harry didn't know what to say to this. Remembering his fall from his broomstick, he could well believe that conjuring multiple Patronuses might prove fatal. He had no idea how he'd survived the experience, though, and under the circumstances there was no one he could ask. 

In the days that followed, neither the Ministry nor Lucius Malfoy made any more difficulties for Percy and the Weasleys. It came out that one of the wizards who vanished had an owl for a Patronus, which was thought likely to be the 'partridge' seen by the prisoners. The other's father was a Death Eater who had died in Azkaban a number of years earlier. 

Three of the people the Ministry did question confessed to giving Riversedge confidential information to leak to the _Daily Prophet_. They had all wished to see Fudge removed as Minister, although each had a different notion of who was to be put in his place. None of them knew anything about Azkaban or the museum or, apparently, Voldemort. Fudge was convinced that the whole thing had been a conspiracy to take over the Ministry masterminded by a group of Young Turks with Death Eater ties, which meant Percy was off the hook. 

Percy's condition, however, left much to be desired. To Harry he seemed not a whit less ill and miserable than he had been in the shack on the Grimsby shore. He passed the time moping in his room, scarcely speaking to anyone. Mr and Mrs Weasley were growing seriously concerned. 

On Saturday morning, Mrs Weasley decided that a trip to Diagon Alley would be just the thing to take Percy out of himself, and bullied the rest of the family into accompanying them. Harry might have been allowed to beg off, but he wanted to stop by Ollivanders. Breaking the sprigs of holly off his wand had left three rough patches, which he wished to have smoothed out if possible. 

The Weasleys left Harry at Ollivanders before heading on to Gringotts, making him promise not to leave the shop until they came back for him. Mr Ollivander emerged from the back almost immediately the bell rang. Harry showed him his wand and asked if it could be mended. 

Mr Ollivander surveyed the wand intently, turning it from side to side. 'Very odd indeed ... what precisely was the cause of this, Mr Potter?' 

'Dunno,' said Harry. Telling Mr Ollivander that the wand had sprouted might lead to questions he didn't want to answer. 'I was looking at my wand a couple of days ago and I noticed those spots.' 

Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with his moon-like eyes. 'If you have any idea at all, it would be best if you share it. Certain techniques ought not be used to repair certain types of damage, as they can make it worse ... or destroy the wand altogether. I assure you that anything you say to me will be kept in the strictest of confidence.' 

'Would you swear not to tell anyone?' said Harry. He recalled the oaths Fred and George had demanded of him behind the mirror. 'By the Skull Horse and the Hounds of Noon?' 

'By the Skull Horse and the Hounds of a Noon, I so swear,' said Mr Ollivander. 

His voice sounded deeper than normal, echoing weirdly in the gloom of the shop. A gust of chill air stirred the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. 

'Right,' said Harry. 'May the Hounds trample you and the Horse bring you down -- no, sorry, it's the other way around --' 

'In any case, I've sworn,' said Mr Ollivander mildly. 

'My wand grew bits of holly,' said Harry. 'The spots are where I broke them off.' 

'And what had you been doing with your wand, to make it grow holly?' 

'I don't _know_,' said Harry. 'It was fine when I stowed it in my pocket. I didn't realise anything was the matter until the leaves pricked me.' 

Mr Ollivander turned the wand over again, regarding it thoughtfully 

'There is only one thing I know of that will cause a wand to put out shoots,' he said. 'When a wizard drains out his life through his wand, a bit of that life may remain within it, making the wand living wood once more ...' 

'Drains out his life?' said Harry. 'What -- how --?' 

'By casting so many or such powerful spells that all of his magic is used up, and he dies,' said Mr Ollivander. 

Harry felt a cold shiver run down his spine. _Not even Merlin himself could have managed three ..._

'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'That's what I did ... but I don't understand why I didn't stay dead ...' 

**— to be continued —**

* * *

**Author's Note:** ETA for Chapter 7 is June 9th. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	7. Holiday Resolutions

  
  


**— chapter seven —**

**HOLIDAY RESOLUTIONS**

  
'As I'm not a mediwizard, I really couldn't say,' said Mr Ollivander calmly. 'I would suggest speaking with Madam Pomfrey about this on your return to Hogwarts. Might I ask what you did with the pieces of holly after you broke them off?' 

'A Ministry wizard burnt one of them,' said Harry. 'I've got the other two in a bottle of water. They've started putting out roots ...' 

'Then you should try potting them,' said Mr Ollivander gravely. 'I can have your wand ready on the morning the Hogwarts Express leaves King's Cross.' 

'But that's almost a week from now!' said Harry. 'What will I do for a wand till then?' 

With Voldemort back, the notion of being unarmed for even an hour was frightening to him. 

'Ah, well, as to that ...' 

Mr Ollivander vanished into the depths of the shop, reappearing in short order with a pair of boxes. He opened one of them and took out a wand that was slimmer and slightly darker than Harry's. 

'Willow and phoenix feather, give it a wave ...' 

Harry swept the wand through the air, sending green and golden sparks bouncing around the room. 

'This one's all right,' he said. 'Not as powerful as my wand, but faster and -- easier to handle.' 

Mr Ollivander nodded at him approvingly. 

'That was Lily's wand,' he said. 'Dumbledore left it with me for safekeeping.' 

Harry gazed at the wand, thunderstruck. Apart from his father's Invisibility Cloak, he owned nothing that had belonged to his parents -- until now. His eyes were drawn irresistibly to the other box. 

'Yes, that's James' wand,' said Mr Ollivander. 'Mahogany and dragon heartstring. You can try it if you like ...' 

Harry opened the second box himself. If not for its deep, reddish-brown colour, he might have mistaken the wand it contained for his own. It took three tries, however, before he was able to get any sparks out of it. 

'This one is -- different,' said Harry. 'I'd have a job working spells with it.' 

'As I expected,' said Mr Ollivander. 'Really a more suitable wand for someone whose strength lies in Transfiguration. If you can't use it yourself, perhaps you know of another person who can.' 

Mr Ollivander gave Harry a pale, piercing look. Harry stared back at him, wondering if the old wand-maker could possibly mean what Harry thought he meant. 

*

Harry and the Weasleys ate lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. In the middle of the meal, a strange witch and wizard came to their table. These turned out to be Watchett's parents. They thanked Harry earnestly for helping to catch their son's murderer and apologised to the Weasleys for the ordeal of Percy's imprisonment. This made Harry feel unspeakably guilty -- but not nearly so unspeakably guilty as Percy, to judge by the look on his face. 

As soon as the Watchetts had gone, Percy pushed his food away, saying he wasn't hungry any more and was going back to The Burrow. Mrs Weasley went with him; the rest of them finished their lunch in subdued silence. As an attempt at cheering Percy up, the expedition was a notable failure. 

The Watchetts' visit, however, served as a reminder to Harry that the situation with Riversedge was far from satisfactorily resolved. That night, as Mr Weasley sat in the living room reading the _Evening Prophet_, Harry sidled over to have a word with him. 

'Riversedge broke into the museum to steal something for Voldemort, didn't he?' said Harry. 

Mr Weasley winced at the sound of the name but said in a steady voice, 'Yes, Harry, I believe he did.' 

'Do you have any idea what he was after?' 

'Not the foggiest,' sighed Mr Weasley. 'No objects of any great magical power are kept in the British Museum, and in any case, most of the stolen property was recovered from Riversedge's flat. None of the things still missing have particular monetary value or historical significance, either. It's possible the thieves were forced to leave without getting what they came for after the attack on Azkaban failed to draw off the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol ... although there were certainly enough robberies when You-Know-Who was previously in power, more than a few involving items he had no obvious reason for stealing.' 

Mr Weasley gazed moodily into the fire. 

'Or maybe they weren't after anything ... maybe the Christmas Eve attacks were only intended to spread panic and loss of confidence in the Ministry ...' 

'So Fudge would be thrown out of office?' said Harry. 'I reckon it was Lucius Malfoy that Riversedge really wanted to replace him with,' he added darkly. 'If Mr Malfoy was ever made Minister, he'd send us all to Azkaban!' 

'Oh, there's little worry of that happening,' said Mr Weasley reassuringly. 'It would take extraordinary circumstances for Lucius to become Minister for Magic, he isn't a career Ministry member. If Fudge was voted out, a Department Head would get the tip, most likely either Magical Law Enforcement or Magical Catastrophes. There, too, I suspect Riversedge's real goal was to disrupt the Ministry and unsettle the public, not put a specific person in or out of power. The more muddled and ineffectual the magical community sees their leaders as being, the more inclined they'll be to believe that Etin's Last Prediction is coming true --' 

'Sorry, believe _what?_' said Harry. 

'Etin's Last Prediction,' Mr Weasley repeated. He eyed at Harry curiously. 'You've not heard of it?' 

'No,' said Harry. 

'Not surprising, I suppose,' said Mr Weasley. 'I don't imagine it's been much spoken of since You-Know-Who's fall. Etin, you see, was a ninth century Scottish Seer. On his deathbed, he made a prediction: that in the last years of the millennium, a Dark Lord would rise to power. When the first millennium ended and no Dark Lord did, people thought it must not have been a real prediction, and the story was all but forgotten ... until You-Know-Who came along. His followers claim he is the Dark Lord that Etin foresaw, in the last years of _this_ millennium. They're keen to convince as many people as possible ... it's well known that the authentic predictions of a genuine Seer always come true ... if You-Know-Who's taking power actually was predicted by Etin, then fighting against him is pointless. So even if the prediction isn't a real one, if he can make enough wizards believe in it, it will come true anyway ...' 

'You don't think it is real, do you?' said Harry uneasily. 

Mr Weasley shuddered. 'I very much hope not.' 

Harry would have been a great deal happier if Mr Weasley had just said no. To add to his worries, after the encounter with Watchett's parents, Percy took a serious turn for the worse. He stopped coming downstairs for meals, refusing to leave his room even when Fred and George set off one of their new, extra-smelly Dungbombs under his bed. 

'He didn't even shout at us,' said George, looking anxious. 

'This is Fudge's fault,' said Fred angrily, 'his and Lucius Malfoy's. Leaving Percy in Azkaban for two months -- he may never recover!' 

'He'll get better,' said Harry. 'Hagrid was in Azkaban for two months and you'd never know it to look at him.' 

'Hagrid,' said George, 'is a lot tougher than Percy.' 

*

On the second from last day of the holidays, Mrs Weasley announced at breakfast (to loud groans from her offspring) that they would be cleaning the house from top to bottom, as Dumbledore was coming to dinner that night. 

'And he said to tell you he's bringing Snuffles,' she said to Harry. 

Harry would have set about cleaning with a will, knowing he'd soon be seeing his godfather, but Mrs Weasley wouldn't hear of it. 

'You're a guest in this house, and you've been ill,' she said firmly. 

Harry felt rather Dudleyish sitting around the kitchen while the others worked, eating the small tarts Mrs Weasley baked him 'to make sure the pastry's all right'. 

That evening, Dumbledore emerged from the fireplace accompanied by a giant black dog, which hurried over to Harry, sniffing him and whining anxiously. Harry patted the dog's head. 

'How lovely to see you again, Albus,' said Mrs Weasley. 'Would you care for a drink before dinner?' 

Mrs Weasley ushered Dumbledore into the living room. 

'You lot set the table,' she called from the threshold to Ron, Fred, George and Ginny. 'Harry, you take Snuffles out for a walk -- keep him from getting underfoot.' 

'Hang on, I've got to get something,' Harry said to Sirius. 

He dashed up to Ron's room and grabbed the box with his father's wand. When he returned to the kitchen, Sirius was sitting by the door. Seeing Harry, he gave an impatient bark; Harry let him out into the yard. Sirius trotted over to a small, lop-sided shed, opened the door with a paw and slipped inside. 

Harry stepped after Sirius -- and stared around him in shock. The tiny shed contained a vast, dimly lit room full of odd bits of Muggle rubbish: cases of pens and pencils, tubes of toothpaste and suntan cream, stacks of tins (many of them without labels), a hairdryer, a yoghurt-maker, a car-tool kit, a rusted, ancient-looking shotgun (unloaded, Harry devoutly hoped), electric torches, clocks with plugs, plastic dustbins ... there was even an old blue police box standing in one corner. Whilst Harry was gazing about, Sirius nosed the door shut and changed back into a man. 

'Dumbledore told me what happened to you on Christmas Eve,' he said grimly. 'Walking alone in the snow for three hours -- Harry, you promised me you'd go to Arabella if there was trouble.' 

'I thought you meant magical trouble, not rowing,' said Harry guiltily. 

'What on earth had you quarrelled over that would make you stay out on a night like that?' said Sirius. 

Harry had to think for a second. 'Oh -- I gave Dudley a Chocolate Frog and they thought it was hexed. You know what they're like about magic,' he added at Sirius' disbelieving stare. 

'You nearly froze to death over a Chocolate Frog,' said Sirius dully. The haunted look of Azkaban was back in his eyes. 

Harry hung his head. 'Sorry,' he muttered. 'It was stupid ... I'll go to Mrs Figg's next time ...' 

He could hardly explain to Sirius that the reason he'd stayed out so long was that he'd been off breaking Percy out of Azkaban, and even so, it really had been extremely stupid of him to fall asleep outdoors in the middle of winter. 

Sirius was still looking devastated. Thinking to raise his spirits, Harry held out the box he'd brought. 

'I've got you a Christmas present,' he said. 'I went to Ollivanders and he gave me this. Said it was meant for someone good at Transfiguration.' 

Sirius opened the box. His eyes widened. 

'This is James' wand,' he said hoarsely. 

'Yes,' Harry. 'Mr Ollivander'd been keeping it for Dumbledore.' 

With a dazed expression, Sirius took the wand out of the box. He used it to turn a string of fairy lights into fireflies, then placed it carefully inside his robes. 

'Harry,' he said in a choked voice, 'don't worry about your aunt and uncle. It will be all right, I promise you.' He gripped Harry's shoulder tightly. 'Now I think it's time we were going in to dinner ...' 

*

Mrs Weasley had cooked a feast of roast goose with cranberry sauce. Harry fed pieces of it to Sirius under the table. Normally it would have been a bit unnerving to eat in such close quarters with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but Dumbledore entertained them all with the story of how his brothers, Aberforth and Aberfan, had Transfigured the family pig into a sled one Christmas, only to have it revert to its usual form when they and Dumbledore were halfway down Pismoule Hill. 

After dinner, Harry and the young Weasleys were shooed upstairs so the adults could talk privately. For several days, Ron had been attempting to charm the cannonball on his Chudley Cannons bedspread to actually fly around the bed. He resumed this endeavour with as little success as previously. 

'I'd've thought those Shuffling Charms Flitwick taught us would do the trick,' he said irritably. 'Fred and George got the letters on their jumpers to change back and forth but they won't tell me how they did it. Harry,' he said suddenly, 'why don't you go ask them? They might tell _you_.' 

Harry started down the staircase to Fred and George's room, but on the fourth floor landing he heard something that stopped him in his tracks. Dumbledore's voice was coming out of the airing cupboard, clear as if the Headmaster was crouched inside it. 

'You do realise what this means, Sirius ...' 

Harry opened the door of the cupboard and peered in. It was empty, but -- 

'Yes,' said Sirius flatly, 'but I've made my decision. I'm not leaving Harry with those Muggles another hour. When the protection fades, we'll simply have to hope for the best.' 

It was as though his godfather was standing beside him. Harry was so astounded that it took him a moment to register what Sirius had just said. 

'I, er, really don't believe you have anything to worry about on that account,' said a third voice, Mr Weasley's. 'The protections on The Burrow are at least the equal of what Harry had with his aunt and uncle. The Dark Lord's never managed to get past them, and we've certainly given him cause to try. If you think it's necessary, I can perform an Adoption Charm. We'd welcome Harry into the family in a second ...' 

'That's not what Sirius meant,' said Dumbledore sombrely. 'The Weasleys are one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain; your family holdings are nearly as well defended as Hogwarts. We have no concerns regarding Harry's safety so long as he is with you. But his relations -- without the magical protection Harry's shared blood affords them, they will not survive the year.' 

'Can't other protections be put on them?' said Mrs Weasley. 

Dumbledore gave a deep sigh. 'None strong enough to keep Voldemort away, or any other reasonably skilled Dark wizard for that matter. Lily Potter, a Gringotts Vault Warder, spent almost a year laying the groundwork for the spell I invoked to protect her sister's family. The Ministry, I'm afraid, will not take the threat to them seriously, nor would they expend much effort guarding Muggles if they did. Voldemort will soon learn of it when the spell fades -- Arabella tells me that the protection has been tested on a number of occasions, both before and after last summer's attack. Sirius and I discussed removing Harry from his aunt and uncle's care at that time ... but to do so would have condemned them to certain death.' 

'Better them than Harry,' said Sirius. 'His parents trusted his safety to me. If he'd died that night, I'd have killed those Muggles myself. They've had their second chance.' 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. 

At last Dumbledore said heavily, 'As you are Harry's godfather, I shall abide by your decision.' 

'It seems to me the spell is fading anyway,' said Sirius, sounding slightly defensive. 'Riversedge managed to get through it to try and murder Harry --' 

'Riversedge had no intention of murdering Harry,' said Dumbledore, 'and that, I am convinced, is how he was able to get through the protection.' 

'What do you mean by that?' said Sirius curtly. 

'With everything else going on that day, I very much doubt the Ministry would have dispatched a pair of Hit Witches to Harry's house on the strength of an anonymous owl -- had Lucius Malfoy not insisted upon it. He told them Harry's Patronus was a reindeer ... made a great fuss over the fact that one of the prisoners claimed to have seen me in Azkaban ... I have made my feelings about Dementors quite clear to Cornelius Fudge in the past. Funnily enough, it was Lucius who sent that letter to the Ministry in the first place: Fawkes had a word with the owl that delivered it. I imagine it was a most unpleasant shock for him when he learnt the circumstances of Harry's discovery. Being found dead in an alley is an excellent alibi. Harry was considered more a witness than a suspect ... carefully guarded until he was well enough to be given a Truth Potion. The best Confundus Charm in the world might linger for two days ... it would not linger three.' 

'The Death Eaters attacked Azkaban to frame you,' said Mr Weasley, his voice hollow. 'Riversedge Confunded Harry so he'd confess. I -- had wondered why You-Know-Who didn't simply tell the Dementors to ... deal with Percy themselves.' 

'Unless I'm much mistaken,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'If Riversedge truly believed his actions would bring no harm to Harry or his family, the protection would have done little to impede him. Voldemort could have persuaded Riversedge that as an underage wizard, Harry would not be held responsible for his part in the supposed breakout by the Ministry -- reinforcing it with a Confundus Charm of his own, if necessary. A serious weakness in the protection which Arabella shall have to be on guard against in future ...' 

'No, she won't,' said Sirius. 

There was another very awkward pause. 

'Er -- Mr Black,' said Mr Weasley, rather quickly, 'before you go -- I wanted to speak with you about my son, Percy. You know he recently spent two months in Azkaban?' 

Sirius made an affirmative noise. 

'He's in a terrible state, and he seems to be getting worse, not better,' Mr Weasley continued. 'Molly and I don't know what to do. I thought, having been in Azkaban yourself ...' 

'Yes ...' said Sirius, sounding suddenly as drained and careworn as Percy looked. 'In Azkaban, you live with nothing but your worst memories. You lose sight of the fact that there's a future -- that whatever you've done wrong, you have a second chance to make right. Harry is _my_ second chance. Surely you can understand why I've made the choice I did ...' Sirius trailed off. In a brisker tone, he said, 'Your son just needs reminding of that. I'll go up and have a word with him.' 

Harry heard the scraping of a chair. Realising Sirius would shortly be coming up the staircase, he pulled himself out of his state of shock and went sprinting back to Ron's room. 

'What took you?' said Ron. 'Did Fred and George give you the spell?' 

'I didn't ask them for it,' said Harry. 'Your airing cupboard -- I heard voices --' 

'Ah, you found our listening post,' said Ron. 'Bill put a Sonorus Charm on it ages ago, you can hear everything that's being said in the living room. What were Mum and Dad talking to Dumbledore about?' 

'Nothing,' said Harry. 'Nothing important. I'm going to sleep, I'm really tired.' 

Rest, however, was the furthest thing from Harry's mind as he lay with his face buried in his pillow. When he'd first grasped that Sirius and Dumbledore were contemplating letting him stay at The Burrow, Harry had felt nearly ill with excitement. Never again to have to endure Uncle Vernon's bullying, or Aunt Petunia's spite, or their endless revolting fawning and simpering over Dudley ... he could come to live with people who actually liked him. It would be Harry's fondest wish come true. 

But the price of his wish was the Dursleys' lives ... 

Surely Dumbledore was being overcautious, Harry told himself. Sirius seemed to think it quite likely that the Dursleys would survive. Even if Voldemort found out the protection was gone, he'd have no reason to attack Privet Drive if Harry wasn't there. 

Yet even as Harry thought this, he realised it wasn't true. Voldemort didn't need a reason to kill -- look how he'd murdered Cedric. Dumbledore was right, the Dursleys wouldn't live out the year. Sirius realised it too, he simply didn't care. He reckoned the Dursleys had had their second chance. He couldn't know that Harry would have gone out into the snow regardless of what they did, in order to rescue Percy. 

There was nothing else for it -- Harry would somehow have to talk Sirius into allowing him to remain at number four. Life with the Dursleys wasn't so terrible now that they knew Harry had a godfather looking out for him. Harry certainly didn't want them to die. Of course he didn't ... 

But old and painful memories kept floating up from the depths of his mind: the many nights he'd gone to bed hungry after Aunt Petunia had snatched his plate away because Dudley wanted more, even though half the time Dudley was sick of it later ... being laughed at in primary school for his baggy clothes -- the few times anyone had seemed willing to be his friend in spite of it, Dudley and his gang had scared them off ... all the toys he'd so desperately wished to play with, that Dudley beat him up if he went anywhere near and then broke within a fortnight ... the occasions on which Uncle Vernon had locked him in his cupboard for accidentally working magic ... 

Harry hadn't understood what was happening, but his aunt and uncle had done, and they never told him. For two-thirds of his life they let Harry believe no one cared if he lived or died. They only spoke of his parents to insult them, after his mother spent a whole year arranging their protection. They treated Harry like a large and particularly disgusting specimen of Flesh-Eating Slug, when all the time it was his presence in their house that kept them safe. Now he knew why they hadn't packed him off to a Muggle orphanage ... 

As Harry drifted off to sleep, a treacherous voice in his head was asking: did the Dursleys truly deserve a second chance, considering what they'd done with their first one? 

*

When Harry came down to breakfast next morning, Sirius, a dog once more, was curled up on the living room rug. He followed Harry to the table to share his bacon and sausages. After they finished eating, Mrs Weasley sent Ron, Fred, George and Ginny out to de-gnome the garden. 

'You're still looking a tad peaky, dear,' she told Harry. 'Why don't you go upstairs and have a rest?' 

Sirius bounded up the staircase after Harry, transforming into his godfather the instant the door to Ron's bedroom was shut. 

He gave Harry a brilliant smile. 'Dumbledore and I've been talking ... we understand you haven't been happy at your aunt and uncle's for some time. I thought it might be better for you to stay with Ron and his family instead ...' 

'I know,' said Harry flatly. 'I overheard you ... and I can't leave the Dursleys. I don't want them dying because of me.' 

He had to force the words out of his mouth. More than anything, Harry wished he could abide by his godfather's decision, as Dumbledore had done. But in the grey light of dawn he had made his choice, between doing what was easy and doing what was right, and he wasn't backing down from it now. 

For a brief moment Sirius appeared chagrined, but he swiftly rallied. 

'The Dursleys aren't going to _die_,' he said airily. 'Honestly, Dumbledore can be such a mother hen. A simple Unplottable Charm on the street and they'll be safe as -- safe as --' 

Under Harry's level gaze, the cheer drained suddenly from his godfather's face. 

'James could always tell when I was lying to him, too,' he said in a broken voice. 

Sirius wheeled around and began pacing the tiny room. 

'Dumbledore warned them last summer ... he distinctly told them if they didn't take better care of you, he'd find someone who would, and they'd have to take their chances without the magical protection ...' 

'Staying out in the cold was my fault, not the Dursleys',' said Harry. 'I won't do it again, I promise.' 

'And they let you!' said Sirius angrily. 'With nothing but a jumper! They didn't go looking for you or even report you missing! If Lucius Malfoy hadn't sent that owl to the Ministry ...' 

Sirius turned back to Harry. For a long time he stood quite still, studying Harry's face. 

'All right,' he said finally. 'You can stop with your aunt and uncle over the summer, for just long enough to keep the protection going. But I'm not leaving you there alone. I'll be staying with you.' 

*

Although Harry put on a brave face until Sirius had left, he spent his last day at The Burrow in deep gloom, mourning the chance he'd lost to escape the Dursleys for ever. 

On the bright side, whatever Sirius had said to Percy had obviously done some good. Percy came down to lunch on his own initiative, pale and drawn but with a purposeful glint in his eye. After eating his shepherd's pie, he announced that he was going to the Ministry to see his father. 

They returned together that evening, Mr Weasley looking both nervous and hopeful. The last meal of the holidays took place in an atmosphere of mounting relief at Percy's apparent recovery. Though still feeling a bit sorry for himself, Harry was glad that for the Weasleys at least, things were looking up. 

Next morning, Harry and the Weasleys stopped by Ollivanders to pick up Harry's wand before meeting Hermione in King's Cross station. On the same day the Weasleys' cousin Andrew had brought Percy back to The Burrow, Ron had received a frantic owl from Hermione asking what was going on and why hadn't he answered her two earlier letters. (They later discovered that Magical Law Enforcement had been intercepting the Weasleys' post.) 

Harry and Ron had written back directly. Hermione had been horrified to learn that Harry might really have been attacked (the _Daily Prophet_ merely said he was taken into custody after anonymous threats were received by the Ministry) and her first order of business on platform nine and three-quarters was to scold him roundly for running away from the Dursleys' house on Christmas Eve. 

Once they were settled inside the Hogwarts Express, Harry told her the rest of the story, or as much of the rest of the story as he'd told anyone: his visit to Ollivanders (though not what actually caused the damage to his wand), Mr Weasleys' tale of Etin the Seer and the opportunity Harry had turned down to leave the Dursleys, which even Ron hadn't heard about. 

Hermione was particularly dismayed by Voldemort's plans for Etin's Last Prediction. 

'People will believe it, you know how superstitious wizards are,' she said, 'and You-Know-Who probably made the whole thing up himself. _I've_ never read of any ninth century Seer called Etin.' 

'How would you have done? You dropped Divination third year,' said Ron. 'And you,' he said to Harry, 'I can't believe you're going back to those Muggles when you could live with us instead!' 

'Don't make me feel worse,' said Harry. 'Of course I'd rather stay at The Burrow, but I don't want the Dursleys murdered!' 

'You're as bad as Percy,' grumbled Ron. 'He says he wants to be a Hit Wizard! Says he can't change the past but he can stop other people being killed because of Dark wizards like Riversedge. Honestly, he'll get _himself_ killed, and after everything you went through to prove he was innocent. I mean, Percy's clever and all, but I don't reckon he could keep his head in a real fight.' 

Harry happened to know for a fact that Percy couldn't keep his head in a real fight. He also knew why Percy was determined to become a Hit Wizard anyway, but naturally he couldn't explain any of this to Ron. 

'Oooh, Harry, where did you get that?' 

Hermione had caught sight of the sprigs of holly, now in a bigger bottle with an Unbreakable Charm on it, and giving off a visible glow. 

'I -- found them in an alley,' said Harry. 'They've started putting out roots. I'm going to ask Professor Sprout to help me pot them ...' 

**— the end —**

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Why Harry Didn't Stay Dead:** I'm sure a lot of you would like a better answer than 'Go ask Madam Pomfrey', particularly as for obvious reasons Harry isn't going to do that. It was partly due to the nature of the Patronus Charm (when the Patronuses faded, a big chunk of the magic used to conjure them was returned to Harry) and partly for other reasons that will be revealed in future stories (but silverblaze in her review of chapter 6 on Schnoogle is very much on the right track). 

**Works in Progress:** Next up in _The Legacy of Slytherin_ are "The Imbolc Serpent" and "Millarca", which deal a little more with Etin's Last Prediction and Harry's connection to Voldemort. "Millarca" is going to take a few months of working ahead on. "The Imbolc Serpent" I could probably do more quickly, but several of the points it raises tie very strongly into "Millarca", so I don't want to post it too far ahead. Instead I'll be splitting my time between "Millarca" and finishing "Harmless and Easily Domesticated" (Chapter 4: The Chizpurfles -- check back in August). 

**Related Stories:** The tale of what happened to Harry in summer is told in "The Butterflies", "The Bug" and "The Serpent of Lord Voldemort". Links to these stories can be found on my Author Page, along with a suggested reading order for all the other fics in the series. Thank you to all the people who've read and reviewed them. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


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